


The Silence of Broken Wings

by LittleAngelCassie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Drama, Homophobia, M/M, References to Abuse, Romance, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Stripper, Stripper Castiel, Switch Castiel, Switch Dean, Tattoo, references to past rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-30
Updated: 2015-05-10
Packaged: 2018-03-09 15:36:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 87,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3255101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleAngelCassie/pseuds/LittleAngelCassie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester’s entire life has been dictated by his father.  He had no choice but to simply submit and follow like a good soldier.  However, when John dies in a car crash, he leaves his eldest son with the one thing he’s never had: free will.  Allowed to finally find his own path, and no longer having to conform to his father's ideals of  what his sexuality should be, he meets a dancer named Castiel. The young man has survived a severe trauma leaving him terror stricken from any form of physical contact.  The story follows these two men from the noisy streets of New York City to the breathtaking open lands of Africa.  Can the hunter afraid to love, and the angel unable to touch, mend their broken wings?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Sound of Silence by Simon & Garfunkel

**Author's Note:**

> A huge hug and mad props to the lovely and talented editor/beta : heytheregreeneyes
> 
> This is a work in progress that will post on Thursday and Sunday
> 
> Each chapter title will be a song. Please check it out.
> 
> To all my amazing readers; this is only the beginning....

* * *

 

**_“Even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise.” – Victor Hugo, Les Miserables_ **

 

Dean glances down the bar, winking to the bartender.  The guy slips him a grin, acknowledging his request for another beer.  His name is Victor.  Dean knows this because he’s been sitting at the same bar twice a week for the past year and a half.  It’s darker then your average drinking establishment, giving the patrons an air of annonimity which Dean appreciates.  The only light comes from the illumination of multiple small hanging lanterns in rainbow colors, and the steady glow of the four long shelves holding the precious alcohol.  Victor is always the one to take extra care of him because he’s the best tipper in the house.  Dean tugs at his ball cap like a safety blanket.  A young college kid probably barely legal to drink slides up next to him.  “Hey there handsome, can I buy you a drink?”

At that exact moment, a beer slides into his hand.  Without speaking, Dean nods toward his full glass, “Nope, I’m good.”

The nameless guy blends back into the crowd, and Dean takes a deep breath.  His favorite bartender tilts forward, “Why do you come here if you are just going to turn everybody down?  It’s almost cruel; you’re too pretty to be alone.” 

“No crime to sit and enjoy the scenery in silence.”  He sips his lager, praying the guy doesn’t see his fear.

“None at all honey.”  With that, he ambles down the long, dark wood bar to another customer.

Victor’s not wrong though.  Dean frequently visits Barracuda in the heart of Chelsea, perching at the corner of the famous gay bar doing nothing.  For the most part, the patrons leave him alone or scamper off after he rebukes their advances.  But why does he come at all? 

 _“Look at those faggots son. What a waste of space.”_   The words of his dead dad are like a bucket of ice water washing over his entire life.  John Winchester, Dean’s father, was a professional hunter.   A true man’s man who expected his boys to be the same as him.  Kill the prey and fuck the pretty girl into the mattress.  God, Dean loved his Dad just as much as he hated him, with every ounce of his being.

People across the country paid John to teach them to hunt, track, shoot.  It meant, as a family he and his brother Sam were dragged across the country while his Dad took one hunting job after another.  Then a family friend named Bobby Singer suggested that he settle in New York City and make it a home base.  It seemed that rich want-to-be hunters would pay thousands to bag something big, thus Winchester Hunters was born.  Sam was 16 and Dean was 20 when, for the first time since his baby brother was in diapers, they had a real home and Sammy finally  finished school.

That was fifteen years ago, and to say the family business boomed would be an understatement.  After Sam came home from college with an MBA from Stanford, he created the travel side.  High end clients could pick any location in the world, and Winchester Hunters would create their dream hunting experience.  His little brother was also the one who pushed for the reality TV show starring the trio.  Six months into shooting their second season, their father died in a car crash.  The cameras kept rolling, and their little TLC show ratings skyrocketed.  It’s been eighteen months since his death, leaving them to run the business.

Calming his breath, Dean opens his eyes, glimpsing the mirror behind the bar.  He notices two men passionately kissing through the reflection.  He becomes mesmerized in their swiping tongues and grinding hips.  Biting his lower lip and letting it drag though his teeth, a silent stirring builds in his crotch.  In the darkest of Dean’s desires, he will admit that he truly wants to be manhandled by strong arms, feeling the burn of scruffy facial hair between his thighs.

The crack of someone slapping the bar jolts him from his downward spiral, reminding him of bones snapping under the strength of his father.  Dean was 14, and they were somewhere in Canada so his Dad could spend a week teaching two wealthy guys how to track bears.  He and Sam were living in a trashy motel, living off of pizza and cheap soda.  One positive was that his younger brother had made a friend with the owner’s son.  The two boys were gone riding bikes at a local park while Dean hung out alone in the motel room.  He takes the solitary moment to pull a magazine from under the bed and strip down to his boxers.  He immediately turns to the dog eared page.  The photo was of a young blond man standing in an alley, his pants around his ankles.  A dark haired man was kneeling before him, sucking the blonde’s dick.  What really resonates with Dean is the face of the blonde dude.  The lust, pleasure, need, and happiness pours from every inch.  The look made Dean’s own cock hard with a yearning he never spoke about, but yet it still existed.  Lying back on the bed, he starts to stroke his shaft, allowing his mind to drift to thoughts of being the lover on his knees.

The masturbating teen never heard the door open he was so astray in his cravings.  It wasn’t until the magazine was ripped from his fingers, a heavy handed slap smacking hischeek, that fear dribbled across his young face.  His father tossed him to the floor, snatching the hand he used to touch himself.

John’s expression is icy, flooding with disgust.  “You sick, twisted little shit.” _CRACK._ Dean’s pointer finger wrenches back breaking it in two.

“I’ll teach you to touch yourself with this swill.”  _CRACK._ His middle finger lies limp along side his pointer.  Tears drench Dean’s face as he concedes to his father’s will.

“Dean Winchester likes tits and pussy.  Do you understand me?”  John knows that Dean has no fight left, that the older man has won, but he still grabs Dean’s ring finger.  _CRACK._   “ANSWER ME!”

Between sobs, the sweet innocent child responds, “I like tits and pussy.”

“Good!”  John shoves him to the rancid carpet, fleeing the room slamming the door.  Dean doesn’t move as the horror, mixing with pain of the encounter, saturates his soul, mind, and body.  Once the tears are dry, he discovers the sound of silence deafening.  He’d never look at another man until his father was six feet under.

He is yanked from his memories with Victor’s deep voice, “You okay man?”

Dean shakes his head, letting the dark thoughts fall back into the corner of his mind.  He takes a glance at his watch, realizing it’s almost 11pm.  “Close out my tab.”  He only had four beers, but he slides a hundred towards the bartender.  “Keep the change.”

Rolling his shoulders as he stands, he pulls the lapels of his leather jacket up around his face, tugging down his hat.  The evenings in March can be cold, but tonight the weather is fairly mild.  Dean is vaguely aware that he’s not hiding from the biting wind but recognition.

***

He’s running a little late, but he knows she will wait for him.  If Dean took a cab, he could make it to Brooklyn in half the time, but on nights like these, he prefers the subway.  Retrieving his cell from his coat pocket, he sends a short text _._

Dean: _On my way, taking subway_

The response is immediate: _Ok, see you soon_

Dean hastily dashes to the nearest green line stop on 23rd street.  It’s a six block walk, but once he’s on, it’s a straight shot to Lisa’s.  Their arrangement is peculiar, and Sam gives his older brother grief for it constantly, but never enough to make Dean end it.  One day he will find the strength to be with someone for real, but currently Lisa needs the cash, and the eldest Winchester needs a female to fuck without any ties.  When Dean was 25 he met Lisa at a Starbuck’s near his apartment.  He asked her out, she said yes and they started dating immediately.  The traditional definition of their relationship lasted almost two years.  Then in a moment of weakness, Dean glanced a little too long at a man’s ass and she knew, but instead of breaking up with him, she just altered the rules.

Lisa Braeden is a yoga instructor struggling to raise her son in the city as a single mom.  She and Ben live in a one bedroom apartment in Brooklyn Heights for the school district, but making rent and putting food on the table was exhausting, so she struck a deal with Dean.  She would make herself available to him every Friday night past 11pm, and in turn, he paid her two hundred dollars.  Lisa was free to date other men and continue on with her life, but Friday nights she was there for her friend, Dean.  They never spoke of the arrangement after the initial agreement, but after he would dress, he places the cash on her pillow, knowing she would find it. 

He caught the train right as it was reaching the station.  Dean grins with a small feeling of triumph over his victory.  It’s the weekend, so the compartment is packed with people going to and from their evening plans.  He snatches the overhead bar with his both hands, letting his hips lean into the sway of the train.  He’s facing the window with two young blondes sitting below him.  Dean clocks them at maybe 21, if he’s lucky, and damn are they adorable.  The two girls have matching outfits with glitter dusting their massive amounts of exposed skin.  He winks to the one on his left and she erupts in a fit of giggles.  The action is almost mechanical, something that would make his dad proud. 

The two friends elbow each other back and forth until the one on the right speaks, “Where you headed, green eyes?”

“Brooklyn.”  He knows the next words before they even leave her mouth.

“Want some company?  We come as a package deal.”  Her blue eyes are warm with a hint of anxiousness.  God, he is a sucker for blue eyes, always has been and always will be.  Due to the sky painted orbs ,he almost feels himself say yes, but it’s odd.  Like all the rest of the tempting baby blues, these just aren’t the right ones for him.  “Sorry ladies, but I have plans.”

The pair get off at the next stop, making sure to crash into his side on the way out.  He notices a smirk of vindication on them both, but he doesn’t mind.  His life is full of individuals striking him for his choices.  The two seats remain empty as he catches sight of his own reflection in the window.  The hat hides his dark blonde hair and helps to obscure his facial features, but Dean can’t hide forever. 

Before he realizes it, he’s punching in the code for Lisa’s building.  He double times it up the two flights of stairs, and then knocks softly to not wake Ben.  Her son sleeps in the only bedroom, leaving Lisa on the sleeper sofa.  The door swings open as green eyes lock onto brown, not blue, but hey, life can’t be perfect.  Dean strolls in, observing the bed is already pulled out and made for their quick romp.

Lisa takes his jacket, tossing it on the small kitchen table in the corner.  “Requests?” 

“Blowjob and done.”  She nods in agreement, waving her hand towards the bed.  One of their many rules to making this work is no kissing.  He and Lisa decided that this was about need, not emotions, so Dean’s lips have remained celibate for eight years. 

Dean lowers his pants and boxers dropping to the old weathered mattress.  There are no words, just movement as Lisa falls to her knees, heaving his shirt high up on his chest.  Dean likes this position where he only sees her dark wavy hair falling over his thighs.  It’s easier for him to think of that far off person who would make this magical instead of just relief.    

She jerks away a second before he comes all over his bare stomach.  Lisa will not swallow, she finds the taste of cum pretty nasty.  Dean doesn’t understand what the fuss is about, he’s licked his own before and found it to be a fairly salty treat, but he hauls that thought deep in the back with the others. A clean towel is thrust onto his shoulder, so he takes it, wiping up the mess.  She lounges next to him, placing her head on his shoulder.  They sit for quite some time in a barely comfortable silence, “How are things?”

Dean snorts.  There are too many things to count bouncing around his head, but he simply grunts, “Fine. You?”

“Ben needs new sneakers.”

He tugs his jeans back into place snagging his wallet from the back pocket.  He adds an extra hundred to her normal amount.  Handing it to her he whispers, “For shoes.”

The transaction complete. Dean rises to head out the door when Lisa’s voice stops him.  “I’m dating someone.”

“Is it serious?”  He states flatly, still facing the door to leave.

She doesn’t answer at first, just lets the question hang in the air.  “Not yet, but…”

“Thanks for the warning; see you next week.”  Dean is out in the hall before he can hear her reply.  She’s a beautiful woman, and he was well aware this could happen.  As he hails a cab to head back to Manhattan, all he can think is he didn’t drink enough alcohol for this shit.

***

The cab makes it to the bridge when his phone rings.  It’s like one in the morning, so Dean knows for sure it’s not Sam.  His little brother tucks into bed every night by midnight and hates to be bothered until well after seven.  A grin smacks his face when he spots the caller ID: Gadreel.  Dean has exactly two friends in the world.  Sam takes the first slot, but right behind his brother would be his buddy, Gadreel.  They met in a bar on Dean’s 21st birthday, and their friendship just grew every year after that.  Although, Gadreel is an equal opportunity dater, he was quick to remind Dean, “I don’t do closet cases.”  That was when Dean knew that not everyone was oblivious to his silent needs.

“Hey man, what’s up?”  His voice cheerier than it had been all evening.

“I have ten minutes left on this current masterpiece and thought maybe Good Stuff Diner.”  Gadreel is a tattoo artist, and an extremely talented one at that.  People booked him months in advance, braving the dark alley of Hell’s Kitchen where his shop ‘Heavenly Tattoo’ was located.  “I assume your pit stop in Brooklyn is complete.”

Dean can imagine the tight bitch face of his friend over the phone.  Gadreel disapproves of his arrangement with Lisa, but never truly judges him though.  “Yup, I am headed back to the motherland as we speak. I’ll see you soon.”

The conversation ends quickly as he leans forward to get the drivers attention.  “Hey change of address.  Do you know Good Stuff Dinner on 14th?”

The guy turns slightly, “yes.”

He staggers into the diner scanning the restaurant for his friend.  This is his favorite 24 hour joint in the city.  It has the best burgers and pancakes in the entire five buroughs.  The overhead lighting is bright, making one squint for a second after entering.  There are multiple square tables with silver trim, and the walls are lined with dark red booths.  Dean spots Gadreel in a booth near the back.  The younger man slides in, cracking a grin, “What’s with the face?”

“You look like shit Winchester, and take that fucking hat off. You’re not hiding with me.”  Dean complies to the request, rolling his eyes.  Gadreel is wearing a black wife beater that shows off his amazingly tattooed skin.  His friend has full sleeves on both arms.  On the right shoulder, he has a massive apple tree that dribbles its branches down his bicep.  Erupting from the tree branches is a large, colorful snake wraping around his arm, ending at his inner forearm where a naked woman perches.  It’s an amazing piece of art that actually depicts the meaning of his name.  The left arm has a grand, meticulously designed bird cage enveloping his wrist with the door clearly open.  A flock of bright, pale bluebirds intertwine up his arm, taking flight towards the large sun prominently placed on his shoulder. He has a piercing over his left eyebrow that works wonders when he cocks that specific brow for emphasis.

“Lisa’s dating somebody.  It seems serious.”  He never keeps anything from the other man regardless of content.

His friend nods, filing away the information.  The waitress takes their orders before Gadreel speaks, “Good, maybe now that will be the little push you need.”

Remembering the origins of his buddy’s name, Dean winks, “Are you going to be the angel that brings me into the light?”

“No, that’s not my style, dear friend.”  Gadreel sighs, a wicked smirk dancing across his lips, “but I’m sure your own blue eyed angel will appear soon enough.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My editor has put together a playlist for the story check it out!
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLd_xfPGGB-BxmxK0R2ldoJIz2ruXXuPYp


	2. Simple Man by Lynyrd Skynyrd

 

 

Dean flops over in his bed grunting.  He didn’t leave the diner last night until 3:30am, so waking at ten really is fucking painful.  Rising from his queen size mattress, with plain cotton white sheets and a black nondescript comforter, Dean opens the blinds to peer out at the morning.  Discovering the sun shining means he has no excuse not to do his daily jog outside; crap.  The hunter moved to his current apartment after he met Lisa mainly for the location, but the second bedroom and decent size kitchen was a serious plus too.  His bedroom is simple, fitting his bachelor ways; bed, two sets of drawers, and a full length mirror hanging off the walk in closet door.  Currently the other bedroom sits mostly empty with a treadmill and stereo system.  Unfortunately the entire place has light hardwood floors, which are cold in the winter since he has never bothered to buy a single rug.  The white walls are bare, and the living room consists of a black leather couch, matching lazy boy recliner, and a high def TV that takes up most of the far wall.  A few gaming systems scatter the floor with a tower in the corner to hold DVD’s and such.  He has a card table with two folding chairs in the breakfast nook, but that’s about it.  Dean strolls into the kitchen to make coffee, grabbing an energy bar for breakfast from the pantry. 

Once his body has calories and caffeine, he tosses on some sweats and dashes to the stairs.  His home is on the third floor so most days he avoids the elevator.  Dean has never been comfortable having small talk with nosy neighbors who want to ask stupid questions about reality TV life.  He gives a quick wave to his doorman, Rufus.  God, that’s like the worst name to be settled with, and his best friend is Gadreel.

His building sits near the corner of 70th and 3rd.  The rent is outrageously expensive, but it came with an underground  parking space for his 1967 Chevy Impala, which of course was a necessity of life.  He sprints down his street heading to Central Park.  Dean enjoys jogging through the east green and around sheep meadow.  Warmth from the sun brightens his mood as he glances occasionally at the people congregating on the wide open green space, soaking up the vitamin D.  Today is going to be a good day.

****

Once he is showered and dressed for work in his standard jeans with a grey Henley, Dean walks the five blocks south to the Winchester Hunters offices.  Well to be honest, it’s a three bedroom apartment, but it’s pretty common in the city for small businesses to use residential space.  When his dad was alive he lived in the master bedroom like a studio.  Always cracking jokes about his easy commute.

The offices are located on the second floor, so as per usual Dean takes the stairs.  As he opens the front door, he is suddenly assaulted by a delicious smell.  “Hey Charlie, it’s me.  What’s for lunch?”

“Beef with Broccoli.  Perfect timing Winchester, it will be done in like five minutes.”  He kisses her cheek as she stands by the stove before heading to the tiny three person table in the kitchen.  Charlie Bradbury is officially the office manager for the company, but she truly fills multiple positions including family cook.  “There are three pending tours waiting your approval, and we have Crowley at 4:00.”

“Fuck me, I totally blocked that out.”  Honestly Dean loves their yearly excursion to Africa with Crowley, but getting through the contracts and pre-departure decisions is a nightmare.  The multi-millionaire lives for negotiations like most people desire sex.  Instead of the thirty minute review like normal, sane clients, Crowley’s paper work could take hours as he scans every sentence, only accepting perfection.  Thank Jesus himself that Charlie was pretty accustomed to the Scottish native after dealing with him for five years.  “Does he want anything new this year?”

She shrugs grabbing bowls from a cupboard.  “You know Crowley, he’s not going to tell me squat over the phone.  He loves for his little surprises to be in person, to watch you squirm.”

“I don’t squirm.”  He responds, taking a steaming bowl of Chinese food. 

Charlie rolls her eyes dramatically, “Whatever.”  The two colleagues eat in silence. 

Okay, so over the years, some of Crowley’s requests have been bat shit crazy.  The first that comes to mind is the year that he hired a clown to follow them around Africa to mess with the locals, and of course the youngest Winchester.  The second Crowley learned about Sam’s phobia, he was like a dog with a bone.  It seemed innocent enough until they found said clown bleeding after he had been stabbed.  Apparently jumping out and saying boo to people with spears was just a grand idea to the moron.  Although, the memory of his dad hooting and hollering as a medic stitched him up, still in his clown get-up, was priceless.

Dean chuckles as he reminisces over the debacle of convincing Crowley to stop encouraging the guy to do it again just because he found it fucking hilarious.  He was offering the clown twenty grand to keep going.  Charlie glances up from her lunch, “Clown or crabs?”

Her face lights up as Dean roars in laughter having completely forgotten about the crabs incident.  At that moment, the front door swings open as his brother saunters in, “God, Charlie, you are a saint.  I totally forgot about lunch.”

“Sam, when do you ever remember to eat lunch?”  Charlie quips as they both watch the overgrown man fill his bowl and grab the remaining chair.  Sam Winchester, on paper, is the CEO of Winchester Hunters.  Dean also secretly thinks he’s the reason the reality TV show is doing so well.  Without fail, his baby brother always finds a perfectly sound motive to walk around shirtless for the cameras.  The older Winchester has, and will always, keep his clothes fully on.  Shit, Dean feels naked in just a t-shirt most days.

The apartment that houses their offices is extremely well laid out.  In the living area sits a long cherry wood table that seats eight.  There are several matching chairs around the table serving as a great space to meet with clients.  The walls are lined with photographs from their many adventures over the years.  First bedroom on the right is Charlie’s space.  She has three computers two desks and several small green plants.  Her favorite Marvel characters are plastered across the walls, giving it a very modern geek look, as she describes it.  The bedroom across the hall is Sam’s office and Dean’s couch.  The older brother hates the idea of a formal work area, so he has an old battered couch against one wall, a file cabinet next to it, and his laptop perches wherever he feels at any given moment.  Sam’s side of the room is very traditional, with a proper desk and rolling chair.  A large picture of their mother laughing hangs between the two opposing sides.  The master bedroom, where his father lived, is rarely opened and nothing has been touched since the accident.

A few hours later, all three are sitting at the conference table across from Crowley as he meticulously reviews his contract for this year’s excursion.  They will be returning to Africa for a 21 day journey, staying at luxurious lodges and cabins along the way.  Crowley doesn’t do camping, so the hunting is done in day trips from different accommodations.   Everyone sits in silence, observing their biggest client mumble over the paperwork.  Fergus MacLeod, aka Crowley, brings their company a ton of business and a huge chunk of the yearly revenue, so really what he wants he always gets.

Where the millions come from was a little questionable.  Crowley is a silent partner in three Las Vegas casinos and one in Atlantic City.  However, Dean is confident that he also has several underhanded businesses as well.  Every year he brings very colorful guests to spend the three weeks with him on vacation.  The hunter reminds himself that it’s his job to smile and help the guy kill things.

“Now do we have the nondisclosure agreements?”  Crowley directs his question to Sam, knowing full well it’s Charlie who will answer.

“Of course, every employee and guest for the tour will have one on file before you leave New York.”  Charlie grins with just a faint huff.  One oddity to these trips is that Crowley requires a written contract that legally enforces, over threat of lawsuit, to keep what happens in Africa staying in Africa.  Also, there will be no cameras of any kind.  He even has all those involved turn in their cell phones.

The client nods leaning back in his chair.  “Now, to discuss this year’s special entertainment.”

“No whores Crowley.  Last year everyone came home with a case of the crabs.”  Dean fights the giggle that is sitting in his throat.  Sam immediately blushes as he attempts to hide scratching his balls.

Crowley shakes his head, “As I recall Dean, you were the only one to come back infestation free.  Interesting to say the least.”

“Shut up Crowley!”  Sam blurts out.  “Just tell us what amazingly ridiculous idea you have come up with this year.”

“I was thinking dancers of the exotic nature.”

Dean is unimpressed, “Strippers?  You want to take strippers to Africa?  That’s not very original of you, and how is that different than hookers?” 

The millionaire cocks an eyebrow, raising his pointer finger, “Ah, see, the dancers will be there to look at, but not touch.  Make it a game of sorts?”

Oh Jesus, Crowley and his games.  “Please explain the game??”  Dean sighs, crossing his arms.  Sometimes Crowley’s games were silly and fun like the year everyone had to be nude during dinner.  Other times clowns ended up stabbed and Sam had crabs for a month.

“I would be delighted to Deanna.”  Dean shuts his eyes and mouth tightly ignoring the stupid nickname.  “It’s quite simple.  You will pick out one female and one male exotic dancer to join our African safari.  Absolutely no one is to touch them.  If anybody breaks that one important rule, it’s a ten grand fine, and they have to run naked through the last village of the journey.  All moneys collected will of course go to the stripper as a bonus.  Questions??”

Sam speaks up first, “Consensual on both sides, correct?”  Dean bites down hard on his lip, his body shaking with laughter as he remembers exactly how he got the STD.

“Yes, of course Moose.  Put it in the contract we all sign that both parties have to be completely willing participants.”

Dean smirk’s because this game he has in the bag.  “Okay, Charlie if you could call around to some…”

His least favorite client at the moment interrupts him, “No, no Dean, I said you will pick them out.  Not Charlie, not a service, not even jolly green giant over here.  You, Dean Winchester, will visit the club personally and choose our entertainers.”

“Why in God’s name does it matter?”

That smarmy bastard snickers, “It amuses me on many levels.  Feel free to charge me for your time, the travel expenses, and pay the dancers whatever you see fit.”  And there it is, why year after year they always let Crowley have his way.  The dude pays his bills in full, without complaint.

****

Currently, Dean is banging his forehead against a work station in Gadreel’s booth, having just explained his new predicament.  His client is having a rainbow peace sign tattooed to her ankle.  The artist pauses to sigh again and throw Dean one serious bitch face, “Winchester, it’s not that bad.  So you have to pick out a few strippers.  Not a big deal.”

An embarrassing whine escapes through his response, “I have to pick out a female and a male.  Not to mention the two performers will have to share accommodations, so they need to really like each other.  This is a nightmare.  We leave in three months.  I have to find them quick to get all their shots and visas in time.”

“Quit being a drama queen about it, and I will help you.”  He speaks over the soft drill noise of his work.  “You will be gone the month of June, correct?”

“Yes, and how many exotic dancers do you know?”

 Gadreel’s eyes never leave the developing art, but Dean can hear the apprehension in his voice.  “Gabriel is the cook at a club that might have exactly what you are looking for.”

Dean’s head pops up like a fucking Meerkat.  “Is this one of the angel brigade?  I actually get to meet another precious Novak.”

“You can always turn down our assistance.”  He glimpses up from the colorful ankle with a shrug, but Dean’s interest is piqued.  Gadreel grew up in a unique family.  He was five when the tattoo artist had to be removed from his home because his father put him in a cage for days as punishment.  Mr. and Mrs. Novak took him in immediately, and two years later the state deemed his birth parents unsuitable. Gadreel’s new family officially adopted him the same week.  The only quirk was not only did his last name change, but so did his first.  In fact, Gadreel grew up with three other brothers, all of who had their names changed to angels.  In the fourteen years that Dean and Gadreel were friends, he had never introduced him to his brothers.  The Novak’s lived near Syracuse, NY, leaving very few chances for a meeting.  Even when his Mom and Dad passed away from old age within six months of each other, Gadreel asked him not to come along.  However, Dean was privy to many stories about the absurd brotherly antics over the years.  For which the hunter deemed the quartet as the angel brigade.  It was like he knew each one; Gabriel, Castiel, and Samandriel.

 “Wait.  I thought Gabriel was some fancy pastry chef in Syracuse.  Didn’t he have to take custody of Samandriel after your parents weren’t around anymore?”

Gadreel pauses his work to stare down Dean.  “When they died, yes Gabriel was old enough to care for Samandriel, but back then he was 16.  He’s 20 now and in college at Syracuse U.   Gabriel needs to be here for…reasons.”

His friend’s face falls into sorrow, reminding Dean of the mystery.  Last year Gadreel dropped off the planet for a month.  He refuses to talk about it, but Dean pieced together that one of the brothers was viciously assaulted.  By process of elimination it was Castiel.

 

 


	3. Take Me to Church by Hozier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may be going to hell but it's such a fun ride. ;)
> 
> Also, comments are highly encouraged!

* * *

 

Dean doesn’t hear from Gadreel for four days.  His friend made it clear that he needed to work out a few things first.  Really Dean would like to ignore the whole affair by telling himself that he’s not truly putting it off, but waiting for Gadreel to reply is perfect.  He’s lying on his couch at work, NOT napping when his phone rings.

He answers with his eyes still closed, “Hello.”

“Dean, it’s all arranged.”  He sits up quickly, making his head spin, Gadreel’s voice chilling to the bone.   Damn it, now he has to actually go through with this stupid order from Crowley.  “The club is called the Devil’s Trap and it’s off 10th avenue in Hell’s Kitchen.  I will text you the actual address; be there tonight at 8pm.”

“Seriously, who goes to see strippers on a Wednesday?”

There is a slight pause where obviously Gadreel is losing his patience with him.  “If you go on a weekday it won’t be crowded.  Then if you want to talk with anyone, it will be easier.  Trust me, go tonight and keep an open mind.”

“An open mind about what?  I don’t want ugly dancers.  Crowley would kill me.”  Dean rubs his eyes trying to decide if this is such a good idea.

“I promise they are what you are looking for.  Just be there at 8:00 and ask for Gabriel.”

This sends off alarm bells, “Wait, you’re going to meet me there right?”  A rather uncomfortable silence drags over the connection, “Right?”

“No.  I have to work late tonight.  Winchester, just man up and go.”  Then there is the softest plea from his friend in a hushed tone, “Please, Dean, just have faith.”

“Fucking hell Gadreel, could you be more cryptic?  Fine, text me the address.  Can you at least tell me the dancer’s names so I know who I’m looking for?”

A loud bang travels over the phone, “Shit.  I have to go, just ask for Gabriel and he will take care of everything.  Later.”  With that, the phone goes dead leaving Dean with an uneasy feeling about tonight.  Gadreel always tends to enjoy an air of mystery about his life, but damn this is pushing it.

****

The door mocks him as Dean halts outside, glaring at the entrance.  He’s been in the same spot for ten minutes.  Worried that he would be late, Dean gave himself extra time to find the club, but now it’s 8:01 and he hasn’t moved.  The clientele of the place seems pretty high end.  There are two valet guys outside who may have started snickering at him.  Like most strip clubs, the windows are darkened so he can’t see inside until he steps through the dark, hand crafted mahogany door with a weird pentagram carved in the center.  Above the entry way in red neon, it simply states, “The Devil’s Trap”. 

Dean’s ass whistles telling him he has a new text.  Retrieving his phone, he glances at the screen:

_Go inside moron_

Either Gadreel is psychic or he knew all along that Dean would need a little push.  Taking in a deep, cleansing breath, the hunter snatches the door yanking it open to step through the gates of Hell.  He follows a long hallway with black walls and dark wood floor, which opens to a waiting room of some kind.  Everything is still black, including velvet cushioned benches lining the walls.  A contrasting color of red silk curtains drapes around the room, blocking the next doorway.  The only other living soul is a petite blonde woman dressed in a white silk dress revealing miles of soft pale skin.  She is glancing down at what appears to be a reservations book, talking with someone on the phone so Dean waits.   The woman stands on a small wooden pulpit with the same markings as the front door.  She hangs up the phone, and without raising her face, “Welcome to the Devil’s Trap.  Your name please?”

“Dean Winchester.  I was told to ask for…”  He doesn’t finish because just in that moment the girl looks up at him and, holy hell, her eyes are completely black.  “Fuck”, Dean may have screamed like a girl as he jolts back several feet.  “What the hell is with your eyes?”

He is certain that she is rolling said eyes, but with the pure black orbs there is no way to know.  The hostess taps her cheek, “Contacts for the demonic effect.  I’m sorry I startled you.”  She focuses on her book again, “I don’t see a Winchester.”

“I was told to ask for Gabriel.”  Jesus what kind of strip club darkens their employee’s eyes, or for that matter, takes reservations?  This is a whole new level of creepsville.  The black eyed chic quickly goes back to her phone, punching in a couple numbers, “Hey Gabe, there is a Winchester here to see you.”

She pauses listening to a response that Dean can’t make out.  “Oh…very cool… yes I will take excellent care of him.”  The hostess lays the phone in the cradle smiling brightly.  “Well Mr. Winchester, it would seem you are a VIP this evening.  My name is Ruby, let me show you to your booth.” 

She tugs back the silk curtain, waving for him to follow along another dark black hallway.  The solitary illumination is three strips of neon lights running the length of the ceiling.  The effect gives her white silk dress splashes of red.  Dean is suddenly aware that they are sloping downward as they move.  “What kind of strip club is this?”

Ruby gives him a sly grin.  “Ah, a virgin, good to know.” 

“I haven’t been a virgin since I was sixteen.”  He winks as he crawls further down the rabbit hole.

She stops midway, licking her top teeth seductively, “This is a dark pleasures nightclub.  We have several forms of erotic entertainment, which includes dancers.  The two you are interested in go on at 9pm.  We also have a full food and drink menu, along with private rooms of varying types of interest.”  Ruby continues sauntering along, wiggling her finger for him to follow.

“Do they have names?”  She glimpses at him confused.  “The two dancers at 9:00?”

The young woman nods comprehending the question, “Beatrice and Dante are your pleasure for the evening Mr. Winchester.  Beatrice can be booked for a private show after, but not Dante.”

Dean doesn’t want to break the trance, but what kind of crappy stripper name is Beatrice.  Unfortunately, they hit a thick, dark velvet curtain before he can ask.  She opens it letting him slip in before her.  A slightly taller brunette stands waiting for him.  Her orbs match Ruby’s with the black of nothingness, giving Dean a shiver.  “Hello Mr. Winchester, my name is Casey, I will be your waitress for the evening this way.”  The blonde heads back the way they came as Dean strolls in behind Casey.  The new girl has dark hair in a long braid down her back.  She also has a similar dress to Ruby’s, but hers is black.

A few steps beyond and Dean enters the lion’s den.  The room is the size of a movie theater with a massive stage at one end.  In front of the stage are dozens of circular tables with white table cloths.  He’s taken back on how swanky the place is, noticing his jeans and Henley are underdressed.  Dean’s eyes sweep back to massive stadium seating in the back half of the theater.  Each level has several booths tucked in with extremely high backs, giving the sense of privacy.  Casey takes him to the second row gesturing to an empty booth.  “Here you are Mr. Winchester.  Food Menus are on the table; can I get you something to drink?”

The hunter removes his leather jacket as he glides into the booth smiling.  “Beer, whatever is on tap, and a shot of the house whiskey.”

“Be right back sweetie.”  She blows him a kiss from dark painted red lips before leaving.

Finally, Dean takes in the act currently on stage.  The music playing is some classical piano piece that he will never be able to name.  There are three performers swaying with the music, knotting their naked bodies into pretzels, but not separate ones.  No, the two pale women with brown hair pulled into tight buns, and one male with skin as dark as night are writhing together into one perfect twister game.  It’s actually quite mesmerizing observing as the light and dark skin slink through, developing different patterns and motions.  Dean finds the entire scene more arousing then any porno he’s seen in years.

He startles when Casey returns with his order along with multiple plates of food.  “Darling, I haven’t ordered anything to eat yet.”

“These are compliments of the chef.  He won’t be able to join you until later.  You’ve got a hamburger with fries, homemade lasagna, and two types of pie for dessert; apple and cherry.”  She gives a little wave, “Let me know if you need anything further and here are your towels if you need them.”

His eyes track two fluffy white towels as she tosses them to the empty bench.  “I’m not that messy of an eater.”

“Jizz does a number on the leather seats.  If you gotta relieve the little soldier, use a towel please.”

Dean’s face freezes in horror as Casey skips off like she’s the cutest shit in the place.  Honestly, it’s not a bad policy. It’s a lot easier to bleach a few dozen towels then scrub cum residue from leather.  His hand pats the fluffy fabric, a sigh escaping his lips.  Oh my God so fucking soft. 

Evidently, Gadreel told his brother about Dean’s favorite foods.  That was nice of him.  He digs in taking a huge bite of meat, allowing his gaze to fall back on the slippery skin of the trio on stage.

Around ten minutes to nine, the act finishes and the stage goes dark.  Dean continues to devour the spread before him.  The food is spectacular. Gadreel’s been holding out on him.  He has a brother that is Dean’s new favorite chef.   

Precisely at 9:00pm there is a ringing of a deep, ominous bell, while over the speakers a low, heavy, gravel filled voice speaks, “Now for your pleasure, Dante and Beatrice”.

His first thought as the entire room goes black is he could listen to that voice a little more.  Dean takes a final bite of pie, letting the fork rest on the plate.  He prays a silent plea that these guys are first-class and he only has to do this once, but honestly he might be back for the pie alone.   

Still sitting in pure darkness the music begins,

_My lover’s got humor, She’s the giggle at a funeral_

Instantly Dean recognizes the popular song as “Take me to Church.”  The light on the stage builds as a woman and man slowly enter in a single file line with a graceful ease to their steps.  The two dancers are immaculately in tune with one another.  Their movements are perfect mirror images.  The small woman is dressed in a long white, lacy dress with a white splash of lace on top of her long, flowing, brunette hair.  It reminds Dean of a young girl on her first communion.  His eyes sashay over to the man and he’s completely covered up in a long black robe that sways seductively with each step.  Dean thinks of a Cardinal in the Catholic Church.  The black robe is tied at the waist with a red flowing fabric.  He even has a little hat over his raven hair.

When the pair hit center stage, they raise their arms twirling as the fluid fabric moves in silence.  Dean couldn’t look away if he wanted to.  The dance is rhythmic, completely absorbing every ounce of his focus.  The song streams along as the words enter his mind,

_My church offers no absolutes, She tells me “Worship in the bedroom”_

On the last word, Dante delicately pulls at a tab on her waist.  Beatrice quickly pirouettes several times, unraveling the dress and leaving her in nothing but a white pair of lacy panties.  The fabric matches the material in her hair.  She is a stunning woman with a body that could go for days, but as the two take to the poles behind them, Dean can’t tear his gaze away from the fully clothed male.  Dean knows they are flipping and turning on silver posts like any other stripper, but this routine is so different.  It’s like watching the soft, sweet movements of a ballet played out on the pole as the two dancers move in perfect unison.

“ _Amen, Amen, Amen, Amen”_

Beatrice hits her knees in front of her pole as Dante towers over her naked skin.  The man makes a sign of the cross before her in forgiveness of sins.  In turn she grasps the red sash, jerking hard as the Dante whirls away, his robes falling to the wooden floor.  Dean releases an audible gasp, “Oh.”

The exquisite skin that is released from the confines of the robe take Dean’s breath away.  The guy is left with only a black, slimming pair of boxer briefs for which Dean thanks every Saint in the book.  Dante is maybe an inch shorter than himself, and not as broad in the shoulders.  However, every muscle on his body from the tips of his toes to the commanding biceps is taught with rolling power.  The hunter has never seen a body so cut with strength.  The dancer’s stomach must have a twelve pack that would slice your tongue with just a lick.  Dante stands tall, his arms out, his back facing the audience as Beatrice pirouettes around him, but Dean can only concentrate on one thing.  A black tattooed set of wings that stretch the entire span of his back.  Every inch of alabaster skin is dripping in feathers, creating an elegant pattern of wings that reach from his lower back up to his shoulders, and down his arms to just past his elbows.

The wings, oh my God, Dean knows of those wings.  There is no doubt in his mind the artist that designed the master piece before him.  The song ends as a new one starts.  A swing is lowered from the rafters and Beatrice takes flight as Dean’s favorite dancer exits.  Dante returns with the next song to do solo work on the pole in only a red g-string.  Dean’s breathe becomes shaky at the sight of more skin, and there is no doubt in the hunters mind that these are his African entertainers. 

When the lights go black signifying the end of Dante and Beatrice’s routine for the evening, Dean’s lower lip rolls out in a pout.  Yet, he will deny it with his final breath.  He glances down at the tempting white towels.  The hunter is already halfway there, his cock straining for attention after the arousing show, but Dean decides against it for today at least.

The hunter is in the process of settling his bill with his waitress when Beatrice plops down next to him.  “Casey, can you get us two beers please?”

The tall braided brunette nods, leaving the space hastily.  The female dancer has a dress similar to the other ladies, but her fabric is completely sheer, showing of her perky nipples.  As soon as he spots the pure black eyes he asks, “Seriously what is with the ominous, spooky gaze?”

Beatrice cocks her eyebrow and smirks, “It’s a dramatic effect.  Everyone but the kitchen staff has to wear them.”  She glares at him intently.  Well at least Dean thinks so, it’s hard to tell.  “So a large tattooed birdie told me you have a job offer for us?”

Damn this girl is direct.  “I do but I need to speak with both of you.”  Well in all honesty he wants a private discussion with Dante and NOT Beatrice.

“Sorry, Dante doesn’t come out to play with the clientele.  You will have to suffer through with me.”  Dean crosses his arms giving her a stern face.  He has no problem walking away if Dante is not a part of the deal, only because he needs one of each gender of course.  “Fine, give me the details and we can work out an interview with him tomorrow.  We have Thursdays off.”

“Why doesn’t he come out now?”

The dumbfounded look on Beatrice’s face is hard core even with the lack of irises.  “Due to his haphephobia.”

“Happa what now?”

“Haphephobia.”  An annoyed sigh escapes as she slumps into the leather seat.  “He has a severe crippling fear of being touched.  Did Gadreel not inform you?”

“No, he did not.  Will it affect his ability to perform or travel?”  Please God in heaven let this be something that they can work with.

“Jesus what fucking bastards, I knew those two angel rejects were going to saddle me with explaining everything.”  The tiny dancer huffs loudly, “We contacted his shrink yesterday and Shirley feels confident that not only can he go, but it would be in his best interest.  Look, basically if someone touches him, he has a panic attack.  Now they can be mild to full blown crazy town, depending on the severity of the touch.”

“Explain.”  Dean’s mind is freaking out.  Not being able to caress those beautiful wings would be a tragedy.

“We ride the subway to work most days.  If someone bumps him in the process, he trembles a little and stops moving for a couple minutes, no big deal.  The doc gave him breathing exercises for that.  However, say an individual were to grab his arm and not let go, he would be screaming like a bitch in labor and he can’t calm down for like a fucking eternity.”

“Is this permanent?  Like was he always this way?”  Dean is cool as a cucumber on the outside, but deep down in the back of his mind he is having his own panic attack.

She shakes her head which helps to alleviate the hunter’s anxiety.  “It’s his story to tell, but essentially Castiel had some really bad shit happen to him when he was young.  Kind of put several cracks in the windshield, metaphorically.  Fourteen months ago, his ex did a number on him and finished the job of shattering the glass.  He’s been in therapy, physical and mental, for over a year, and I see progress so no, I don’t believe he will stay this way.”

That’s when Dean’s entire world tilts dramatically.  His voice is tightens in distress, “Did you say Castiel?”

“Umm yeah, Dante is Castiel Novak and I’m Meg Masters.  You realize that we use stage names right?”

The man with the stunning tattoos, whose body Dean will dream about for years, is Gadreel’s baby brother.  Dean smacks his cheek trying to get a hold of the topic at hand.  It doesn’t matter, this is about a job and the dynamic duo are perfect.  He needs to change gears fast because Dean’s having trouble finding the ability to inhale.  “Yes, but what kind of stripper name is Beatrice?”

Her response is dripping in a snide tone, “The Divine Comedy, written by the guy Dante who put himself and this girl Beatrice as the main characters.  He travels through heaven, purgatory, and hell.  She’s his guide through heaven.  Did you take English in like, the ninth grade?”  The snark is strong with this one.

He just bounces his head in agreement, although he really has no clue about specific details of the story.  However, it does seem fitting given the environment.  “Wait, are you two romantically involved?”

The burst of giggles that erupts from her petite body calms Dean a lot.  “Are you joking?  Castiel came out of the womb preferring cock.”

Dean suddenly feels a whoosh of relief as the tension flees from his muscles.  “Oh thank God.”

Meg doubles over, holding her side from laughing so hard, tears pouring from her black eyes.

 

 


	4. Flaws by Bastille

 

Dean discovers that he really likes Meg.  Their short conversation is full of laughter.  The hunter suspects her snarky comments hide an amazing heart.  She produces a cell phone out of nowhere, because how does one hide anything in a sheer dress?  “Okay Winchester, give me your digits so we can work out a meet between you and my boy Castiel.”

He’s smirking, excited with the way things are progressing.  Especially that he will be able to finally be face to face with his gorgeous dancer.  It’s just a quick glance at her phone that is the final straw.  Dean has been able to hold it together, convincing himself that his interest in Castiel is purely for the trip. But then in a second, everything crumbles.  The wallpaper on Meg’s phone is a selfie of the two roommates.  A close up with their cheeks touching, glowing genuine smiles plastered on their faces.  He knows Meg is talking, saying something about it being taken before everything went to shit. Dean suddenly can’t hear, he can’t breathe, all he can do is see a stunning set of blue eyes.  He is suddenly struck with the need to spend forever lost in the depths of those baby blues.  That is when his will power stutters to a halt, and Dean jumps straight to full on panic.

The hunter hands Meg his card, barely able to speak as he stumbles out of the club as fast as his legs will carry him.  He just needs fresh air.  Then the world will stop spinning and the nausea will subside.  Clearly there was something wrong with the food because his entire abdomen is cramping.  Dean ambles for almost a city block before he vomits into the gutter.  How fucking pathetic. The supposedly strong professional hunter reduces to a bumbling idiot with the photo of one man he has yet to encounter in person.

A single thought slinks into his mind tripping through the fog of dread.  Gadreel knew this would happen.  The only person he has ever been completely honest with about who he is under all the layers.  Even Sam has no idea of John’s punishment for even the slightest interest in another man.  The broken fingers, the bruises, even the bloody noses were blamed on boyhood bullies. Gadreel was the single individual Dean trusted enough with his secrets and he betrayed him.  All the emotions swirling in his head morph into one clear focus; anger.  The hunter dashes off in the direction of Gadreel’s tattoo shop.  It’s only a few blocks away, but the distance feels like miles.  Dean is pumping with rage, sprinting at full force to face his Judas.

For once, fate is on his side because as he turns the corner down the alley to the shop entrance, there is his target.  Gadreel leans against the bricks like he’s waiting for Dean.  The tattoo artist spots his friend first, stepping forward completely aware of the hate in the hunters face.  The instance that Dean is close enough, he swings his fist hard and swift, making contact with Gadreel’s chin.  The other man plunges in response, his back slamming against the cement.  Dean crashes on top of his prey, his knuckles continuing to wail on anything in front of him.  After his fourth swing, Gadreel snatches his wrists, holding on tightly. 

Dean is expecting his friend to yell, or at least reprimand his abhorrent behavior; however, that is not the case.  Instead Gadreel sighs with defeat, “Tell me why you are upset.”

The request is calm, the artist’s voice is timid.  Dean doesn’t know how to answer.  His chest is rising and falling with fervor as he leans forward screaming, “You knew!”

“Yes.”  Again Gadreel’s retort is quiet and collected, “Why are you angry Dean?”

Tears are filling Dean’s eyes, tempting to drop at any moment. This time his accusation is softer, “You orchestrated the entire thing and never warned me.”

“I couldn’t risk you not going, now answer the question.  Please.”  It’s the hitch in his best friend’s confession that demolishes the last of his perfectly constructed walls.  “Tell me why.”

Dean’s head lolls forward onto his chest.  A dark silence falls over the two men.  His breathing gradually slows, but the tears are still there insulting the hunter.  His reply is scarcely audible, “I want him.”

Gadreel finally releases his wrists, but they simply collapse next to Dean.  His friend's expression is warm, “And you think I taunted the first man you have truly wanted in your face, knowing full well that you can’t have him.”

Using his now free hands, Dean wipes the building moisture on his cheeks.  “How could you be so cruel?”

“I did it for him.”  The hunter’s eyes glare into the other man’s face.  “Castiel needs the money, and he can’t be in the city on the 10th of June.  This tore me apart, Winchester.  Gabriel and I talked it over for two days trying to decide how not to cause you any harm.  I’m sorry, but he’s my baby brother.”

Dean sighs because if the situation were reversed, there is no doubt in his mind that he would have chosen Sam.  “Why the desperate need for money and to be out of town?”

His friend sits up as Dean climbs off his chest.  They prop themselves against the brick wall of the alley, resting with their shoulders touching.  “When my parents died, they barely had enough to cover the funeral.  Gabe and I had to combine our resources to support Samandiel, and eventually pay his college tuition.  It was a dream of his, and although he did receive financial aid from the school, it wasn’t enough.  So when Castiel needed our help, we had nothing left to give.  He sees a psychiatrist twice a week and needs medication to function.  It’s expensive, and honestly Meg makes some of the worst sacrifices.  You said twenty grand a piece, right?”

Dean nods, already calculating how to give them more, “I might be able to swing another five each.”  He decides not to mention the ten grand tips for touching, but he can bring that up with Meg privately.

“We don’t want charity Winchester, but my brother is damn talented.  He used to dance with the American Ballet Company until he was deemed mentally unfit.  The Devil’s Trap is the only place Castiel could find that would work around his issues. We are barely keeping our heads above water.  Gabriel sleeps on the floor of my studio, and Castiel lives with Meg in the fucking South Bronx.”  His friend pauses, inhaling deeply to steady himself, “I always knew that Castiel was the one for you, but you were never ready for that leap.  Then he met that asshole and everything changed.”

The other half of the question remains unanswered so Dean pushes, “What happens on June 10th?”

“The ex-boyfriend that kidnapped and tortured my brother for two weeks, will be released from prison for good behavior.  The courts sent us a registered letter informing us that Castiel can apply for a restraining order, but even that will cost us in lawyer’s fees.  He was given three years.  That bastard took everything from Castiel, but they only gave him three years and he will end up serving merely half his sentence.  Please Dean, I’m begging you, take him far, far away.”

He has so many questions, but now is not the time.  Right now, Gadreel needs to know that his brother will be safe.  “You have my word.  He will be on another continent, surrounded by men who enjoy killing animals for leisure.  But can I ask you a favor in return?”

“Anything.   You do this for me, and I will owe you everything.”

Dean jerks his head in acknowledgement.  His voice is scratchy, as the request is gentle.  “Let me try.  I know the challenges ahead, but I need your permission to try.”

“Dean, I don’t want you to get your hopes up.  Is it because he won’t touch you that draws you to him?  I can’t let you use him like a safety vest to test the waters of dating a man.”

“I won’t lie, this next step is scaring the shit out of me.  Man, I threw up on the way over here.”  He wipes the corners of his mouth for good measure.

“That would explain the wretched odor.  But… I assume there is more.”

The proud hunter thumps his head against the harsh wall behind him.  “No matter how terrifying this is, I still want him, warts and all.”

There is a hint of a smile pulling at the corners of Gadreel’s mouth.  “Yes, Dean Winchester, hunter extraordinaire, you have my blessing.”

And with that his destiny was sealed.

****

 

“Are you fucking kidding me?”  Dean glances around as he pulls the Impala up to the curb, noticing at least three guys eyeing his car.  There is no way in hell he’s leaving Baby alone to be molested by punks.  Gadreel warned him last night that Meg and Castiel live in a rough part of the city.   He was not exaggerating.  But Dean knows that Novak will be more comfortable in his car than the subway, which is why he suggested picking him up for the lunch interview.  Actually, he made the arrangements through Meg because he was too chicken shit to call Castiel, but now he has no other choice.

Retrieving his phone from his pocket, he quickly locates the correct number, dialing before he can change his mind.  Dean’s not sure what he was expecting, but the boxer-dropping deep voice made his heart stop.

“Hello, is this Dean?”

He quickly shakes his head, reaching for a clear thought before the dancer hangs up.  “Yeah, is this Castiel?”

“I would assume since you called me the answer should be obvious.”  Dean’s first reaction is that this guy is even more snarky than Meg, but there doesn’t seem to be any malicious intent behind it.

“Sure, umm, I’m outside your building, but I don’t want to leave my car.  Can you come down?” 

Again the answer is blunt, but not snide.  “That is wise in this neighborhood, and yes, I am capable of leaving the building.  I’ll be down momentarily.”  The phone call ends without further discussion.

Dean breathes in deeply, trying to calm his nerves.  Jesus, what is there to be anxious about?  He’s just taking the guy for a burger so they can discuss the excursion.  In fact, Sam gave him a list of questions for Castiel, so this is a true interview with a potential employee.  He slams his head on the steering wheel, groaning.  This just might also be a tiny bit of a date, the blessing given by his buddy still fresh in his mind.  “Son of a Bitch.”

The hunter clambers out of the vehicle, because he has manners for Christ’s sake.

When Castiel staggers out of the building with a slightly apprehensive face, Dean approaches him, his hands open.  “Hey Cas!  Over here man.”

His date, no strike that, his lunch interview is dressed pretty casual in a dark pair of skinny jeans, and a pale blue cotton t-shirt with a maroon hoodie.  The hunter tracks his prey’s body, noticing how well the denim hangs on those glorious hips.  Finally, Dean’s gaze raises to the bluest eyes on the planet, maybe the universe.  God, the photo did not do these beauties justice.  He went on vacation a few years back to the Grand Cayman Islands.  The water there was the purest definition of Caribbean blue he had ever witnessed.  Standing dumbfounded in the heart of the Bronx, lost in Castiel Novak’s eyes, Dean could actually smell the ocean.  His stomach lurches, his heart stops, and the hunter finds himself truly breathless, but also totally fucked.  For the first time in his 35 years of existence, Dean found the sky painted orbs he had been secretly searching for.

Okay, now he should speak because glaring at the poor guy is not helping his cause here.  “Your chariot awaits.”  Dean winces as he opens the passenger door.  He is such an idiot. 

Castiel appears like he’s trying to solve a puzzle his eyes, zeroing in on Dean and making him shiver, but he shrugs, sliding into the passenger seat without a word.

Dean takes in the sight of the drop-dead gorgeous dancer. His raven wavy sex hair, a muscular body that goes on for days, and sparkling baby blues resting in his car like he was born to be there. Yup, he is thoroughly screwed.

He flips off a cabbie that almost side-swipes him while attempting to reach the driver side.  Dean promptly tells himself to keep his eyes on the road for everyone’s safety.  “I was thinking we could drive out to Jersey.  A friend of mine has a diner out there.  Her burgers are legendary.  The milkshakes are also to die for; my treat.  Is that okay?”  He’s talking incredibly fast, not taking a breath through the entire spill.

Not letting his eyes veer from the road, he listens for a response from the passenger, “I guess so.  It seems like an awfully long drive for a meal.  There are plenty of adequate restaurants in the city.  This is just an interview, correct?” 

An air of fear slips in his voice, which breaks Dean’s heart.  “Well, I leave for a month on Monday, so I need to let Baby purr for a bit.  The drive would be good for her.”

“Baby?  You call your vehicle an infant?”  At first Dean assumes the guy is yanking his chain, but when he finally glimpses the purest ocean ,he finds out it was an actual question.

Dean squirms a little in his seat, “Yeah, it’s a pet name.”

“Ah, a term of endearment then?”  Castiel nods his head finally grasping the label.  “Perhaps a drive would be nice.  Let’s visit your diner so I can truly judge your definition of a legendary burger.”

“Awesome.”  A grin blossoms across his face.  Round one goes to Winchester.

Normally Dean would play some tunes while he opens his baby up on the main road, but he’s hoping silence will help Castiel to share more of that erotically charged voice.  His gamble is rewarded about five minutes into the drive.  “Are you going on a hunting trip?”  Dean brows crunch with confusion.  “You said you are leaving for a month, is it for work?”

“Oh yeah, but not for hunting.  My brother and I have this reality TV show about our lives.  Part of the contract requires us to do two publicity tours a year.”

Castiel’s head tilts to the side with a thoughtful look, “On tour?  Like a rock star?”

“No.  Oh hell no.  There are these Guns&Ammo shows all over the south in the spring.  We go to them, give a seminar on tracking or shooting.  Then after we sign autographs, and in the evening a select few pay to have dinner with me and Sam.  It’s PR for the show, no big deal.”

“So you have fans?  Who pay money to spend time with you?” 

Dean replies super fast, clamping down any illusions that anyone would think he was a celebrity.  “No, no, no.  They are just gun enthusiasts that enjoy learning from our experience.”  He shakes his head profusely.  “Nope, just other hunters.”

Cerulean eyes lock onto his intently, “When you have these seminars, does the audience ask you about your life?”

“Sure.  There is a Q&A session after our presentation.”

“Are some of the queries from the audience that are personal in nature?”

“Sometimes they can skew a little off topic.  Usually they just want to know about being on set, funny stories, really any kind of glimpse behind the camera.”

Castiel smirks and the change in his expression makes Dean’s heart leap for joy until his blue eyed angel speaks, “You, Dean Winchester, have fans.”  He accents the comment with a wink causing Dean to almost swerve into oncoming traffic.


	5. Falling Slowly by Glen Hansard & Marketa Irglova

 

 

The sun bounces brightly off the black tar before them.  Dean grins as he listens to Castiel recite a story about Gadreel stumbling home drunk and vomiting in their mother’s favorite planter.  The tension from before is now completely forgotten.  He finds it fascinating how animated the dancer is, using his hands to gracefully explain the size and importance of Mrs. Novak’s beloved plant.  It represents the heart of the beautiful man sitting next to him.  Castiel tucking his big brother in bed, then with the help of heavy rubber gloves, scraping puke from the dirt.  Dean understands loving a sibling so much that even the grossest task is not even a blip on the won’t-do-it scale. 

Somewhere in the dark caverns of his mind, Dean can sense the cracking of fingers, and his father’s voice screaming, _“Dean Winchester likes tits and pussy.”_   Instinctually, he stretches the hand that was wounded so many years ago.  The hunter is on the cusp of spiraling down into his own panic when a velvety soothing sound pulls him back.

“Dean, are you alright?”

 With those four words, Dean regains control, finding his smile once again.  Castiel is his life line, unknowingly hauling his pathetic ass out of the horrors of his past, and into the light before them.  “I’m good Cas.”  He exclaims as he hits the gas harder with his foot chasing the noon sun.

“You called me that before, can you not recall my complete name?” Dean is becoming quickly acquainted with his angel’s speech pattern.  He finds it oddly endearing.

While glancing over at Castiel, he notices that the man has turned his body to face him.  His muscles relaxed like this is a normal occurrence to be riding in Dean’s car.  The only sign of his disorder would be how far away he has placed himself on the bench seat.  “Sorry, nobody has ever thought to shorten it?  Castiel is a mouthful.  I won’t use it if that bothers you.”

“It’s fine.”  The wicked expression that sweeps over those blue gems gives Dean a chill.  “So you think I’m a mouthful?”

Dean’s teeth rattle with the stutter that escapes his lips.  Thank God he wasn’t drinking anything; it would have sprayed all over his baby.  The hunter’s mind is blank.  He has no idea how to react to the comment.  “Umm…your name…it’s long and stuff.”  He averts his eyes back to the road trying to hide the blush that is erupting on his cheeks.

Castiel’s eyes glimmer as he hums, “I find it interesting you chose the word long.”

Jesus fucking Christ, is it hot in here!  Maybe he should turn on the AC.  Dean wiggles in his seat trying to get a hold on the conversation that has blown wildly out of his control.  Then, without warning, Castiel fist pumps the air yelling, “Yes!  I win.”  After which he yanks out his phone texting someone.

“You win what?”

There is a pause while Castiel finishes his text and peeks up at the hunter.  “Gadreel bet me five dollars that I couldn’t make you squirm before we reached the restaurant.  You, handsome, just squirmed.”

Damn it, round two goes to Novak.  Dean imagines all the ways to murder a tall, tattooed traitor as they pull in front of the diner parking the car.  “We’re here.”

He’s grabbing for the door handle when he detects a waft of pure fear wash off his passenger.  “Dean, there is a crowd.”

“Well, yeah, it’s a really popular place.  The wait can be up to an hour, but don’t worry, we will jump to the front.  I know the owner.”

Castiel isn’t moving, his pupils blown wide as his fingers pull into tight fists.  “I am enjoying our time together, but Dean, that’s a lot of people in a small confined space.  I can’t…”

“Cas!”  He snaps his fingers in front of the dancer’s eyes getting his attention.  “I have it covered.  We aren’t going in through the front.  I know we just met, but can you trust me?” 

“I trust you, Dean.”  They both take a deep breath before exiting the vehicle.

He gestures his hand towards the side alley, and Castiel moves ahead of him.  Dean is extremely grateful for this because it allows him to glare at the dancer’s ass.  There is a graceful sway to his hips that makes Dean’s brain shriek in delight, but also retreat with fear.  Cas glances back over his shoulder, triggering Dean to freeze like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar.  But the dancer continues without comment, although Dean swears the swagger in his step becomes more pronounced.  “There’s a door just ahead marked deliveries, that’s what we want.”

The other man bounces his head, sauntering on until he reaches the entranceway Dean mentioned.  “Should I just bang on it?”

“Yeah, Jo should be waiting to let us in.”  Castiel obeys, beating the steel door with his fist.  How can one man be both stunningly beautiful and powerful in the same moment?  He is trying to decipher an answer when the door swings open, revealing a petite twenty-something girl with her bright blonde hair in a ponytail.  “Hey Jo, table ready?”

Her gaze sweeps up and down Cas, a smirk building in response, “This way boys.”  She gives Castiel a wide berth since Dean was very clear about his special needs earlier.  Once everyone is inside, they move through the kitchen without a word, Jo taking the lead and Dean following behind Cas.  The hunter wants to make sure that if need be, he can put himself between anyone and his angel.

The booth is right next to the swinging doors heading to the back. Dean notes that Castiel slides into the booth, scooting in as far as possible, his shoulder grazing the wall.  “Thanks Jo.  Can you give us a minute?”

“Sure.”  She winks, skipping off to another table.

Though the hunter is still standing, Castiel raises a hand to him.  “Thank you, Dean.  I am painfully aware of the inconvenience of my phobia.  Your forethought is very kind, and hasn’t gone unnoticed.”

Dean feels tongue tied by the man’s words so he just nods, then clambers into the other side, scanning the area for anyone he might know.  The restaurant is one huge square, where alternating lime green and pink leather booths line the room.  The center is filled by black and white checkered Formica tables with chairs matching the booths.  The walls are mirrored to reflect the neon pink and green stripes running the ceiling.  A large jukebox sits in the far corner, next to an old soda jerk counter that houses the bar.  As of this moment, he feels in the clear, so the hunter returns his focus on Castiel.  “Do you like milkshakes?”

The dancer peers over his menu, “Yes?”  He states tentatively probably waiting for retribution from the squirming incident in the car.

“They have this Dr. Pepper Vanilla Vodka shake that is amazing.  Can you drink alcohol?”

“I have to be careful because of my medication, but I do occasionally enjoy an adult beverage.  Should you be drinking?  Will I need my ride home?”  He tilts his head to the side with a questioning glance.

“It’s not that strong, and I have a very high tolerance.”

“How lovely for your liver.”  Castiel tosses his menu to the table.

Dean rolls his eyes huffing, “Whatever, we could split one and then nobody over does it?”

The corners of Cas’s mouth tip up in a soft grin that causes his heart to fill like a balloon.  “You want to share a milkshake with me?”

Another wave of crimson paints the hunters cheeks as he bangs his head on the table.  “Seriously Cas, we can order two if it’s going to be an issue.”

“No, a burger and half a shake sound perfect.”  Dean puffs some air through his lips, leaving his forehead against the cool Formica.  This would be so much easier if Cas were a girl, but then that’s not what he craves, not really.  He doesn’t want simple anymore, he desires an ex ballet dancer with piercing blue eyes and sex hair that makes him weak in the knees.  Dean grasps that he’s been lying with his eyes closed for a while when he hears Castiel order.

The man’s voice is arousing, soothing, and jarring all in one breath.  “Hi Jo, we will have two burgers and one Dr. Pepper with vanilla vodka shake.”

“Aw, how cute you guys are going to share?”

 Dean can hear the teasing tone, but before he can defend their choice, Cas jumps in, “Is that a problem?”  The dancer’s response has a bitter bite to it.

“Not at all, I will go put in your order.”  The noise of her sneakers slinking off lets Dean relax for a minute.

“Dean, don’t you have a list of questions from your brother?”

“Right.”  This gives Dean somewhere else to focus so he doesn’t have to accept the disastrous not a date before him.  He yanks out the sheet of paper from his leather jacket.  “I think his main concern is how you can travel given the disorder?  Also, we will need a letter from your mental health provider clearing you for work.”

“My psychiatrist’s name is Dr. Chuck Shurley.  He believes this trip will be good for me.  Push my boundaries and force me to deal so the latter is not a problem.  In regards to travel, I can take a double dose of my Xanax and I should be fine.  Meg helps with the calming exercises, and my attacks are not full on outbursts unless I’m cornered, or the touch is intimate in nature.”  Cas halts briefly as blue eyes meet green.  Dean can’t help but chew on his lower lip.  One of Castiel’s major triggers is intimate touching.  That does not bode well for the hunter.  When the dancer speaks again, it’s a whisper, “how much do you know?”

Dean’s eyes dart around the room trying to steer clear of the cerulean gems.  “Bits and pieces.  You had a rough start, which made you more sensitive.  Then a little over a year ago your ex tore it all to shit.”

“That’s not a bad description.” 

Jo returns to the table to deliver their burgers and shake.  “Sorry about earlier.  You guys enjoy.”

Dean lifts one shoulder in a half-ass attempt at a shrug.  “No problem, and thanks.”

Castiel takes a bite of his burger, then releases a moan that shoots straight to the hunter’s crotch.  “These make me, very happy.”  He can’t help but gaze as the blue eyed man blissfully eats.

Pride floods Dean’s veins as he devours his own burger.  “Do you mind telling me more?  It’s up to you, but it could be useful.”

“I can do that.”  First Cas takes a huge sip of the alcoholic shake.  “Wow, you weren’t kidding.  That is the best shake in the world.”  Dean nods, smiling at the success of at least feeding Cas properly.  “I guess we start at the beginning.  I have no memories before the age of three.  In fact, I have no idea how old I am or my birthday for that matter.  I just showed up at dawn in the driveway of a Fire Station near Syracuse.”

Dean swallows his food prior to asking, “So how did they know you were three, or even your name?”

“They didn’t, actually.  One of the firemen took me to the ER and they deemed me healthy, so Social Services took over my case.  That evening I was placed with the Novaks.  Eventually, they did a few tests and guessed my age at three.  The day I met my adopted parents became my birthday, and Castiel was born.”  He sips at their shared drink giving Dean a moment to query.

“Didn’t you at least know your name?  Sam could recite the entire pledge of allegiance at three.”

The dancer shakes his head, “I didn’t speak until I was six, and my first memory is holding the hand of a man in uniform.  As I grew up, dance became the one place I felt normal, so my mom encouraged it.  At 17, I was accepted into the American Ballet Academy and came to New York.  Gadreel was already here so it made the move easier.  Three years later, I became a principle dancer in the company.  It was amazing.  All my dreams were coming true, but that was also the year I started dating Nick.  He was my first everything; kiss, love, sex.  Then on my twenty third birthday, I was suppose to leave for a tour through Russia.  Unbeknownst to me, the love of my life called the company pretending to be me and quit my job.  Nobody knew I was missing for two weeks.  My friends and family thought I was in Moscow, and the company assumed I had left.”  Castiel goes very still as he drags several deep pulls from the shake, probably looking for liquid courage.

“Where were you?”  Dean’s voice is rough with tension.  He desperately wants to learn Nick’s last name so he can put his hunting skills to use, but remembers the guy is currently in prison.  The other man doesn’t respond as he wipes several tears away.  Cas’s eyes drifting off, lost in his own mind.  “You don’t need to finish, I get the picture.”

“And again, thank you Dean.  Perhaps one day.  Needless to say, I was in terrible shape when they found me.”  Castiel’s expression floods with pain and sorrow.  Dean does not enjoy this look at all.  He feels powerless because he can’t even pat Cas’s shoulder.  Jo brings the bill silently a few minutes later, and the two men sneak out the back, avoiding the crowd.

They are leaning against the passenger side of the Impala, only a few inches between them, but to Dean it feels like the stretch of a football field.  Neither has said a word, but the stillness is comfortable, almost effortless.  The hunter speaks first, “So you guys officially have the job.  I will text you Charlie Bradbury’s contact information.  She’s our office manager.  Call her next week to set up times for paperwork and shots.  Sam and I will be out of town, but Charlie is great.”

The dancer’s response is timid, almost broken, “What about you?”

“Huh?”  Dean scrunches his face perplexed by the question. 

“When can I see you again?”  Cas glances up to the open clear sky.

Dean’s ecstatic, but he tries to pull off a nonchalant appearance.  “Well, my flight to Atlanta doesn’t leave until Monday at 1pm.  I have to do some stuff at the office, but I can be flexible.”

“Come by the club tomorrow and watch me dance.  I could reserve a private room for us to hang out in afterwards.  Fridays are fun.  Beatrice and Dante perform their full frontal nudity routine at 11pm.”

Jesus Fucking Christ.  Dean suddenly knows what a stroke feels like because after the words ‘full frontal nudity’ his brain and heart just shut down.  It’s not until nervous blue eyes stare at him that Dean shouts, “hell yes!”

He clearly yells a little too loudly because Cas starts a bit.  The dancer regains his composure hastily, “I’ll put the reservation under your name say 9pm?  There are some pretty cool acts that go on before us.”

“It’s a date.”  Dean yelps.  Fuck did he just use the d word?  What an idiot.

Castiel simply smirks at Dean’s grimace.  After a soft chuckle, “Yes, Dean Winchester, it is.”

Fireworks are exploding in Dean’s head as he opens the door, letting Cas into the car.  The hunter halts by the spot where tattooed shoulders were touching his baby.  Pathetically, he ghosts his fingers over the metal with a sigh.  But the small action reminds him to send a quick text to Lisa.

_We are done._

 


	6. Gods & Monsters by Lana Del Rey

 

It took four outfit changes and a skype session with Charlie before Dean is properly dressed for his evening with Cas.  He has never cared about his dating wardrobe until now, which terrifies him.  The hunter lies to Charlie, telling her it’s for a date with Lisa.  She didn’t pry any further then to get details on where they were going, although the pensive looks she kept giving him said volumes.  The redhead simply shares her advice, never displaying even a glimmer of suspicion.

 Dean arrives at the club a little past nine, hitting a wall of humans in the black and red waiting room.  Wow, weekends are an entirely new monster here.  The hunter sits on one of the black velvet benches until it’s his turn to be seated.  He scans the people around him, confident that his attire is appropriate.  Dean, with Charlie’s help, selected dark form fitting jeans with a light green sweater, over a white button down dress shirt.  Swearing he is practically naked without a Henley or plaid flannel, but Charlie was adamant those were more for shooting animals than watching dancers at a popular club.

Ruby steps in front of Dean, tilting forward to catch his attention, “Mr. Winchester, your table is ready.”  He closes down the game on his phone before standing.  When his eyes finally catch her black orbs, she grins with a wink.  “You’re up front this evening.”

He trails behind her down the shadowy hallway that’s dripping in red light, “A friend made the reservation, so whatever he chose is fine.”

“We are aware of your …friend.”  Dean swears she almost emphasizes the last word with finger quotation marks.  Ruby halts at the black curtain, striding into his personal space.  “Tread lightly.  Dante is special.”

“I know.”  He says it with all the genuine honesty he can muster.  She gives him a curt nod, tugging the fabric aside.

A familiar face greets him once inside, “Welcome back, Mr. Winchester.”

“Casey, how they hanging?”

The waitress glances down at her chest, “Perfectly perky, thanks to the wonders of modern technology.”  She beckons him to follow her towards the tables up front.  Nearly all the seats are taken with customers laughing and smiling at the current show on stage.  It’s a woman wearing an old bar wench costume, but the skirt is so short you can see her thong, and so low her nipples tip out.  The performer is singing a dirty limerick;

_There once was a girl named McGill_

_Who used dynamite sticks for a thrill_

_They found her Vagina in South Carolina_

_And bits of her tits in Brazil_

While she sings, the lady uses her thighs to crack nuts.  Dean chuckles to himself, “useful skill.”

He’s suddenly motionless when he spots the table Casey gestures to.  Dean is in the front row.  If he leans too far forward he will be able to touch the wooden planks holding the stage, yet that’s not the worst part.   There is a single red rose in a black opaque vase along with a box of chocolates.  The hunter hastily searches the room, noticing that his accommodations are the only ones with anything beyond a single white candle.  He taps the waitresses shoulder, “What’s all this?”

“Mr. Dante chose them specifically for you.”  She has a knowing smile on her face, but Dean is panicking.  He didn’t bring anything for Cas.  What fucking idiot shows up on a first date with nothing? 

“Oh my God, I should have…” 

Dean is about to bolt to the nearest florist when Casey whispers in his ear.  “Let him do this.  Castiel is nervous because he can’t give you a normal date ending.”

 Understanding sweeps over him.  Castiel won’t be able to hold his hand, play footsie under the table, or even give Dean a kiss good night.  But what the dancer doesn’t comprehend is that to Dean, being near Cas transcends the whole lot.  “I don’t care about that.”

“Bless you, Dean.  First round is on the house, beer and a whiskey?”  Dean bounces his head as he takes his seat.  Well damn, he has been officially swept off his feet.  He focuses on the next limerick as he searches for a chocolate without coconut.

The time flies by and then once again the theater goes completely black, and the sound of his angel floods the theater, “Now for your pleasure, Dante and Beatrice.”

The darkness holds him as the music begins, then words tumble out while the lights slowly build.

_In the land of Gods and Monsters_

_I was an angel_

_Living in the Garden of Evil_

His dancer is center stage standing atop of a trapeze swing.  Castiel sways back and forth causing actual black wings attached to his shoulders to flutter.  There are harsh black straps running Castiel’s biceps, holding the wings in place.  Dean stills, mesmerized by the effect of real wings blossoming from the tattoo’s on the dancers back.  The only other clothing Castiel wears is a are loose black cloth bottoms that hang dangerously low on his glorious hips.  The angel fluidly moves through the air as Meg enters stage right, gradually making her way to underneath the heavenly man.  A white silk sheet envelopes her petite skin so the only piece of her flesh the audience can peek is her soft white feet.  Once she is directly under Castiel, Meg whirls gracefully, releasing the long white fabric into the air.  She doesn’t have a stitch of clothing on.

_It’s Innocence lost, Innocence lost_

Castiel latches the back of his knees to the swing , falling back so he’s hanging upside down while the movement of the sway continues.  The angel seizes the silk material at the same moment Meg wraps it around her wrists.  The swing rises, lifting the petite girl off her feet.  She flips and coils under Cas, another stunning ballet taking flight.

_If I get a little prettier can I be your baby?_

In a high end of their momentum, Castiel frees the fabric from his grasp, tossing Meg to the sky.  She rolls from the throw, elegantly landing in a crumple on the floor.  The angel chases after his prey, dropping to the wooden floor in a striking back summersault.  He stalks forward as she cowers in fear.

_Fuck yeah give it to me this is heaven, what I truly want_

The dark angel stretches out his hand. Meg smiles, clearly sensing love.  She reaches back to him, but right before their fingers touch the entire room goes black.

When the illumination on stage returns, Meg begins a routine on one of the poles with a long red ribbon still completely nude.  Dean starts as Casey slides to him a fresh beer and a large piece of blueberry pie.  He turns to look at her, “Timed that just right.”

“I know what my customers truly want, Mr. Winchester, and here at the Devil’s Trap we keep things to ourselves.  This is a safe place, Dean.”  He doesn’t have time to question her further as she slips away to another table.

The hunter moans and groans through another amazing pastry from Gabriel.  Shit, he really needs to take the time to meet the other Novak brother.  Dean glimpses bits of Meg’s routine as he awaits the return of his dancer.  As the song finishes, a new one begins almost simultaneously, and Dean recognizes the familiar beginning riff, Gimme Shelter by The Rolling Stones.

Dean’s eyes track Castiel’s entrance like he was scanning for prey.  The dancer is wearing an old khaki trench coat.  His legs are bare as well as his feet.  Dean’s little soldier takes notice because he was promised full frontal nudity.  Cas starts his routine on the pole, twisting his body round and round.  There are flashes where Dean swears he can see his prize.  Suddenly, his angel lands on the floor as he nimbly removes the coat.  His eyes bulge from their sockets, threatening to leave his head altogether.  Castiel is beautiful.  Dean bites his lip so hard he draws blood.  God, he blushes with a fury as his eyes gaze over the agile, gorgeous skin before him.  He is sitting so close that Cas can actually see him, and for a brief second, blue eyes lock onto green.  Dean lets loose the breath he had been holding tightly, letting the puff of air linger between them.  If heaven were a collection of important moments, then this one would make the top three.  He could spend forever lost in Castiel.

At the close of Dante and Beatrice’s performance, the stage goes dark and the house lights go up for a brief intermission.  Dean’s not sure what to do now.  He’s about to leave his chair when Casey taps his shoulder.  “Mr. Winchester, here is the key to your private room.”

“Private room?” 

She winks at him, her red painted lips curling into a wicked grin.  “The private rooms are through that door to the right.  Just show Golem the key and he will let you through.  The keys are color coordinated with the doors.  You are in the silver room this evening, so once you are in the hall, look for the silver painted door.  Mr. Dante will meet you there.”

“I need to settle my bill.”  He’s retrieving his wallet when she stops him.

“Everything has been taken care of, enjoy.”

“No way, Casey.  Between my food, drinks, and the cost of the room, my tab has to be at least a couple hundred.  Dante can’t afford it.”

His waitress raises her mouth to his ear, speaking in a hushed tone, “You are very kind Dean, but we all helped.  Please don’t hurt him.”

“I’d tear out my own heart first.”  He snatches a hundred from his wallet, slipping it into her hand.  “A tip for excellent service,” he kisses her cheek, heading in the direction of the massive wall of human that is guarding the simple wooden door to the back.

Dean discovers the silver door quickly and immediately ducks inside.  The room appears pretty standard for a strip club.  There is a long black velvet couch on one end, with a small silver table to the left.  Two white towels perch on top.  On the opposite side of the room is a circular silver platform that’s maybe six inches off the ground, and a pole directly in the center.  The walls are painted black with shiny silver material draping the corners.  Dean is fairly certain that this is the simplest of all the private rooms, as he’s sure the exotic level probably goes quite high.  He places the rose and chocolates on the table.  Dean couldn’t bring himself to leave them behind.

Ten minutes later and still no Cas.  The hunter is getting antsy, so he decides to give the pole a try.  He elects to remove everything from his pockets, and the green sweater, tossing them all on the couch.  Dean stretches up, grasping the pole as high as he can, then hurl’s his body around the platform. 

“Fuck!” He yells as he lands flat on his ass with a thud.  This is a lot harder than it looks from the audience.  The hunter wipes his hands on his jeans, determination jolting him up.  He attempts a little twist move he saw Meg perform, and this time comes crashing to the plank face first just as the door opens, “Son of a Bitch!” the hunter shrieks, his forehead still lying on the floor.

The sound of Castiel laughing saturates the room as he closes the door behind him.  “Actually, since I don’t know my origins, that could be entirely accuarate.”

“Sorry, that is not easy.”  Dean rolls off the platform landing with his back on the carpet.  He glances at Cas, observing that he’s back in the black cloth pants with bare feet.  He is naked from the waist up and his hair is wet.  “Did you shower?”

“Yes.”  Cas plops down on his stomach, facing the top of Dean’s head.  “I get pretty sweaty.”

The two men lie in silence for quite some time.  His angel resting his head on his own arms as Dean stares at the ceiling listening to their breathing.  There is something peaceful at having Cas so close.  His shoulders relax while tilting his head up to peek at the dancer as he spots the rose, “Thanks for the gifts.  I feel like a serious loser for not bringing you anything.”

“That’s not true, you are here.  That’s the best gift of all.”

 “We had a date.”  The hunter sits up, turning to see Cas.  “I even got dressed up.”  He points to his white dress shirt and the sweater on the couch.

“Dean, don’t be stupid.  You know what I mean.  You are gorgeous.  Why the hell would you waste your time on someone so broken?”

The hunter flops down to his tummy, mirroring Cas’s position.  Their noses close enough to smell each other’s breath.  “I want to make something clear without any confusion.”  Castiel’s stunning blue eyes search his own while he speaks.  “You are not the only one who is busted inside.  We both have issues that will make this thing between us difficult.  Your right, it would probably be smarter for us to run for the hills in separate directions, but I don’t want to do that.  I have been frightened most of my life to want a man.  Jesus, if my dad walked in on us now, he would beat me unconscious.”

Castiel’s fingers twitch like for a fleeting moment he wants to card them though Dean’s hair.  “I am sorry.  I was lucky my parents were very supportive of my choices.”

“I don’t want your pity Cas, anymore than you want mine.”  The other man nods in agreement.  “What I do want is to spend time with you.  Castiel Novak, you are beautiful and kind.  Being near you is like Christmas morning.  I’m excited about what is to come, and smiling like a fool for it.  Please give this a chance.”

The dancer giggles, “Where have you been hiding all my life, Dean Winchester?”

“In the closet.”  Both men burst into laughter until Dean has trouble catching his breath.

“Can I make a request?”  Cas timidly asks.

“Anything, anytime, anywhere.”

“You currently have me at a disadvantage.  I would like to rectify that now.”

Dean’s desperately grasping at memories attempting to identify something he has done wrong.  “What disadvantage?”

“You have seen me naked.”  The naughty smirk on his angels face is priceless.  “Will you strip for me?”

Before Dean can even give himself a chance to panic he yells, “Yes!”  Then the reality of the situation smacks him in the head.  “But, I’m a terribly dancer.  I think my lack of talent will embarrass us both.”

“Nonsense Dean.  I can assure you that your dance technique will not be my main focus.”  The other man winks, giving the hunter a new level of excitement.

He stands, stepping on to the platform.  Oh My God!  Is he actually going to do this in front of someone he has known for  only two whole days?  “First, I need you to sit on the couch.”  Castiel complies, but whimpers a little at the distance between them.  “Dude, this is still closer then I was for your show.”

“True.”  Cas halts next to the couch, picking up Dean’s discarded sweater, then puts it on before lounging across the velvety material.  “I get to keep this for awhile.”

Damn there is something sexy about Cas wearing Dean’s clothes.  A soft growl escapes his lips.  “Deal.”  He decides that music would just exacerbate his inability to find a beat, so the room remains quiet.  Dean toes off his boots, kicking them to the side, away from Cas’s spot.  Then he tugs at his socks, twirling them over his head while rolling his hips, enjoying his choice as Castiel snickers wildly in response.  Next, he tosses the socks to the floor as he gradually unzips his jeans, letting them pool at his feet so he can heave them towards the dancer.  Dean grasps the pole, leaning out a bit as he uses his other hand to unbutton his top.  The hunter should feel exposed or wrong, but that couldn’t be farther from the truth.  Safe, cherished, and wanted are the words he would use to illustrate this moment.  Castiel’s remarkable baby blues are searing into every inch of Dean’s uncovered skin. 

Dean flaps open his shirt, waving the material about giving Cas glimpses of his chest when a thought hits him, “Shit!”

The laughter stops as Cas hastily travels to directly into his space once again.  “Are you okay?  Is this too much?”

“I just forgot to tell you one thing we have in common.” 

Cas’s head tilts to the side in confusion, “We have something in common?”

The hunter turns so his back is to his angel as he drops his dress shirt to the wooden stage.  The gasp he hears from the man behind him isn’t surprising.  “Don’t be mad.”

“Why would I be upset?” Cas replies, his mind elsewhwere.  Dean can sense the heavy gaze of the other man staring at the tattoo on his back.  In fact, it’s in the beginning stages of being a duplicate copy of the wings on Castiel’s skin.

“I never knew the pictures hanging in Gadreel’s shop were of you.  I just saw them and they haunted my dreams.  So a year ago, I started the process, but because of my hunting trips it’s been going very slowly.”

Dean can sense the closeness of the other mans fingers.  He never, in fact, makes contact with the hunters skin, but Castiel’s hand simply hovers over the partial tattoed wings.  He holds his breath, not wanting to break the fairytale moment. 

Cas’s voice is hesistant but full of wonder, “The way Gadreel has done these, they are more than just incomplete.”

“What do you mean?”  Dean pivots around to face Castiel, as he totters on the edge of the raised surface.  If he fell from this spot, his skin would converge with the angel’s body.

Blue eyes meet green in a compassionate embrace, “Your wings aren’t unfinished they are …broken.”


	7. Salvation by The Scanners

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Castiel's prior abuse is discussed. Maybe drink a nice cup of hot chocolate while you read.
> 
> Cas POV chapter

* * *

 

Castiel is counting steadily in his head as he follows behind Meg.  The subway ride over from the club was fairly empty, but a ridiculous girl bumped him trying to flirt.  His long time friend nearly tore the young woman apart with a dark death glare.  The dancer’s nerves are already frayed so the touch sent him over faster than normal.  It took ten minutes for Meg to calm him down enough to continue the journey to Dean’s apartment.

The last time he saw Dean was Friday night at The Devil’s Trap.  The hunter had to spend all of Saturday prepping for his trip, and then Castiel works until 4am on Saturday nights.  However, after a lengthy phone call the two men decided that Cas should visit Sunday after his shift, the unspoken assumption being that he will be sleeping over and staying until it’s time for Dean to leave for the airport.  Castiel hasn’t slept in a bed with someone, other than Meg, since Nick.  Actually, the only people he has ever shared a bed with are those two and his brothers, hence his current status of tiptoeing dangerously close to full-blown panic attack.

One, two, three, four…  The counting helps to stabilize his mind, pushing the darkness away.  Castiel can’t deny that he’s bubbling with excitement for tonight.  The dancer is curious about Dean’s life behind closed doors.  He finds the hunter fascinating with striking good looks, and a surprisingly tender side.  Too good to be true, keeps running through Castiel’s brain as his thoughts fall to the green eyed beauty.

Meg opens the door to Dean’s building, letting Castiel slip through first.  He keeps his gaze on the floor as a doorman approaches them.  It’s almost midnight; not an appropriate time to call on someone, so the dancer fears there will be a problem.  However, the African American gentleman holds his hands behind his back, addressing Meg, “Can I have your names?”

“Meg Masters and Castiel Novak.  We are…”

“Yes of course, Miss Masters.  Mr. Winchester has cleared you to head on up.  Do you need the number?”  The man is speaking softly, staying completely still which eases Castiel’s tension.

“No, I’m good thanks.  Clarence do you want the elevator or stairs?”

“Stairs.”  He whispers stepping in behind her, his eyes never leaving the ground.

She glances over her shoulder, taking in the massive lobby.  “Damn, this is a pretty swanky place.  We are moving on up Jefferson.”  He chortles at her attempt of humor to lighten the mood.

By the time they reach the Dean’s floor, he has counted every step, but that does little to help the building anxiety as he waits outside of the apartment.  Meg holds off knocking, turning to face him, “Are you sure about this?  If you want to bolt, now would be the time.”

Castiel smirks at her suggestion.  No matter how edgy he is, there is no place he would rather be and she knows that.  Dean is important.  “Dr. Shurley said this is what I need.  To push myself in social situations is necessary.”

“Fuck that quack!  You are shaking like a leaf.”  She swipes her petite hand above his shoulder.  It’s a sign of comfort for him, without contact.  “I could stay?  Hide in the tub in case you need me.”

“No.  Regardless of what you think, Meg, I want to be alone with him.  We have tonight, and then he’s gone for a month.”  He takes a deep inhale…One, two, three, four, five...exhale.  “Do I look alright?”

She scans his body from top to bottom.  “Honestly Clarence, what’s with the ratty trench coat?”

“Dean said he loved that routine, I thought it would be a nice reminder for him.”

Meg giggles loudly, “Oh my God, you little flirt.  He’s going to see that coat and think of you naked.  Props my friend.  Mad props.”  Castiel leers at the small woman, but cracks a smile because she’s not wrong.   With a final breath, he knocks on the door.

Obviously, Dean had been expecting them because within seconds the door yanks open, revealing the mouthwatering man.  The older Winchester is amazingly handsome.  He’s wearing a simple white undershirt with a pair of jeans and bare feet.  Holy shit Castiel should never have told the hunter his appreciation for toes.  As a dancer, his feet are disgusting, so over the years Cas has developed almost a fetish for smooth, blemish-free feet.  Since Dean hides his toes in soft socks and boots, they are gorgeous.

“You might want to put on some socks or he’s just going to stare at those beauties.”  Meg snickers while Castiel’s face flushes red.  Damn her knowledge of his entire life.

“I know.”  Dean’s voice is warm, like a shot of scotch, making his body relax.  “Thanks for bringing him over.”

He senses Meg bristling at the clear dismissal.  “God, I feel like I’m dropping my kid off for his first sleepover.”  She sighs with fake annoyance, “When should I be back in the morning?  I have an appointment at 11am, so before or after?”

Castiel should be bothered by her comment, but he can’t deny the truth.  He requires her help to navigate the subway, and this week is tight so no cabs. 

Dean answers swiftly, “I will drive him home.  Wouldn’t want you to miss getting your nails done.”

“Unfortunately, no.  It’s a monthly check at the free clinic.  Not everyone uses the private rooms to hang out.”  Meg winks, pestering Dean over their last date. 

The hunters face seems puzzled, yet before he can start something with her, Castiel remembers his reason for the drive, piping in, “He needs to let his baby purr.”

“Exactly.”  Dean scoots back, pulling the door open wide.  “Cas.”

He glances at Meg as she kisses her palm, waving it to him.  “I will have my cell if you need me.”  Castiel nods in confirmation as he enters the apartment, Dean closing the door behind him.

The two men stand staring at each other for several minutes.  Finally, Dean speaks, “What’s with the hand kiss thing?”

“Meg can’t hug me goodbye, so a while back, she started doing that.  It calms me.”

Castiel examines the living space, taken back by the stark blandness of it.  There is absolutely nothing truly personal within this place.  His gaze catches the rose he gave Dean sitting on a pathetic card table.  Next to the living flower are a dozen glass roses.  The light from the ceiling chandelier catches the sculpted glass, flinging red and yellow across the pale white walls.  The effect is stunning.  Dean notices, “Oh, these are for you?”

“You bought me glass flowers?”

“I wanted something that would last longer.”  Castiel smiles at the gesture. The red and yellow glass roses will last forever.  It astounds him that such a gruff exterior houses such a gentle soul.  “Oh, I also have some candy for you.”

He tracks Dean’s movements as he ducks into the large kitchen.  Castiel is stunned to see such a spacious area in a New York apartment.  “Do you enjoy cooking?”

“I do actually, but I never make the time.”  There is such sadness in his response that it bothers the dancer.   Dean edits himself for the expectations of others, and this beautiful human should never do that.  “Here.”  The green eyed man hands Castiel an extremely large bag of M&Ms.  “I called Gadreel and he said these were your favorite.”

“They are, but how many did you buy?”

“Five pounds, I went to the M&M store in Time Square so I could get exactly that amount, in two specific colors.”  He observes that there are only blue and green candies.  “It’s us touching.”  The happy grin on Dean’s face is perfect.

“Why did you purchase so much?  This will take me...”

“…a month to get through.”  He can add this to the ever growing list of why Dean Winchester is a hopeless romantic.  “You know, green is supposed to make you horny.”  The hunter bounces his eyebrows with a wink.

“Thank you, Dean.”  Castiel removes his trench coat, revealing the green sweater he borrowed from Dean.  The hunter growls softly at the sight.  Castiel smirks at his calculated choice in wardrobe.

The two men end up playing Yahtzee for hours while sipping beer and munching on M&Ms.  The dancer quickly noting that he keeps eating green as Dean sticks to the blues.  It’s a mindless game that allows them to chat about Dean’s upcoming tour.  Castiel learns that the filming crew for their reality show will meet them at the airport in Atlanta.  From that moment on, for the whole month, they will be under the watchful eye of constantly running cameras; which means Dean is nervous about calling Castiel on the phone.

“I understand Dean.  Gadreel was very clear about your desire to keep your personal life private.”  Castiel spills the dice, taking in the numbers before him.  “There is always the middle of the night, or texting.”

Dean bites his lip, worrying over the decision, “Texting; now that I can do with fervor.”  The dancer yawns, suddenly realizing how late it is, the clock on his phone stating 2:54am.  “You ready for bed, Cas?”

He can’t hide the terror shinning from every pore on his body.  “Bed?”  He croaks out.

“Come look.  I think you will like what I’ve done with the sleeping arrangements.”

“Okay.”  Tentatively Castiel allows Dean to guide him to the master bedroom.  He stifles a laugh when he spots the swell of blankets, quilts, and sleeping bags running down the center of Dean’s bed.

The hunter crosses the room, waving his hand at the make shift mountain.  “See, we can be together, but never touch.  I simply want to hear you next to me, but if this is too much, I can sleep on the couch.”

“This is brilliant, Dean.”  Without a word, they take turns in bathroom to brush their teeth, and other necessities.  Then each man climbs into bed wearing only boxers.  Castiel is first, so he has an excellent view of Dean’s tattoo.  He ponders whether it should bother him that the hunter will one day have identical wings on his skin.  If he’s being honest, the idea of Dean slowly becoming his romantically, as the wings develop, is arousing.

Once Dean takes his spot on the other side, the two men cross their legs so they can face each other.  The huge pile of blankets placed tightly between their opposing knees.  “Dean, can I ask you a personal question?”

“We are in my bed, down to our underwear.  I think personal questions are appropriate.”  The hunter winks with a sly grin.

“What happened to your mother?”  Castiel knows he made a poor choice as Dean’s body tenses with a jolt.  “I’m sorry, did I cross a line?”

“No.”  The emerald gems lower their gaze to the fluffy barrier.  “I was born in Lawrence, Kansas.  My family lived there until I was four, and Sammy was six months.  One night in November, our house caught fire.  My dad grabbed me and Sam thinking my mom was close behind.”  Dean picks at a loose thread.  The next words are in a hushed, reverent tone.  “She never made it out.  We left the next day, and I haven’t been back.”

Castiel senses his hand spasm with the desire to stroke Dean’s shoulder.  The memory was clearly a painful one and he can do nothing to console his hunter.  “Tell me about her.”

The smile that fills Dean’s face graces his eyes.  “She was a hugger.  I remember lots and lots of hugs.  I always felt loved and special when she was around.”  A comfortable silence falls between them.  There is a peace that Cas acquires in Dean’s presence.  “Can I ask you something in return?”

“Of course.”  He suspects what the question will be, but it’s only fair.

“What did your ex do to you?”

And there it is.  The one thing he would give anything to avoid discussing.  Tit for tat, he supposes, “Nick became very jealous of the attention I was receiving for my dancing.  I was a principle in a prominent ballet company, so I had… fans.”  He shrugs, reminded of the teasing he gave the hunter a few days prior.  “They would send me flowers and harmless gifts.  Over the time that we dated, the gifts became bigger and Nick hated it.”  Castiel watches his fingers curl into tight fists.  “Finally, he was convinced that if I left for Russia, he would lose me forever.  So he chained me to the floor of his closet.  That way, I could never leave him.  The man I loved died the second my wrists were locked in the metal cuffs.  For twelve days he brutally attacked me.  When Meg eventually found me, there were bruises over every inch of my skin, and I had a terrible infection that was nearly killing me.  If I had been there another day or two, I would have died.”

Castiel’s eyes are shut, but he hears the quiet sobs of his bedmate.  “How did Meg know where you were?”

“Since I was only going away for six weeks, I didn’t want to waste money on an international phone, so I told everyone I would e-mail them.  Nick knew that, and used it to keep people’s suspicions at bay, but Meg figured out that it wasn’t me.  She always distrusted my ex, so one day when he was at work, she broke into his apartment and discovered me unconscious, naked on the floor, bleeding.  She saved my life.”

“There is more to her than meets the eye, huh?”  The hunter scratches at the scruff on his face.

Castiel shrugs.  People don’t always warm up to his friend.  “She is a remarkable person.  Meg has always cared for me.”

“Is she safe?”  The man’s green eyes dart around the room, “When Meg does the private room gigs?”

“She takes the appropriate precautions.  I wish she could stop, but…” Cas has no words because they both know she does it for him.  The dancer wrings his hands together tightly, fighting the rage that comes with the guilt.

Dean’s voice quivers as he abruptly goes back to the story, “And the infection?”

Casitel pauses to center himself before continuing, tugging at his dark raven hair, “Nick would climb on top of my body from behind, pressing every inch of my skin into the harsh cold floor.  As he slammed into me, I was unable to catch a breath because he was twice my size, and my lungs struggled to fill.  The desperate need for air haunts me.  After a while, he found prep , or even lube tedious, so I developed an infection due to anal tearing.”

“Jesus Christ!”

“I am confident Jesus had nothing to do with it.”

Green eyes flash to blue, locking into one.  Tears are spilling onto Dean’s cheeks as he gasps abruptly.  That’s the image that breaks Castiel’s resolve.  The two men weep together, never breaking the visual connection.  Dean’s hand gradually perches on top of the blanket hill.  The hunter spreads his fingers wide.  Cas mirrors the position with his own hand then little by little, places the tips of his fingers between Dean’s.  Their digits slotting together like two puzzle pieces, but never actually meeting.  He can feel the heat from Dean’s skin pulsating over to his own.  Castiel lowers his head to the soft mound, facing their intertwining hands.  Dean does the same, allowing their eyes to connect, prolonging the bond.

Later, Castiel’s eyelids begin to droop with exhaustion.  Slightly before sleep takes him, the dancer hears Dean’s loving plea, “Cas, I will never, could never, hurt you.”

“I know, Dean.” His blue eyes are fighting to stay with his favorite shade of jade.

“You are safe with me.”

The last words to fill the quiet bedroom are his response, “I know.”

****

Castiel's stirs silently.  His soul is at peace this morning and it seems glorious until he spots the green orbs.  The dancer is all too aware of the terror stricken look in Dean’s glare.  He can make out the familiar battle of someone on the verge of a panic attack.  His sweet, kind friend has probably never awoken to another man in his bed.  “Dean, listen to my voice.  I need you to take a slow, deep breath.  It’s okay; there is no one else here but you and me.  We are safe.”

Dean doesn’t speak, but he bounces his head in acknowledgement.  Castiel observes as the hunter opens his mouth inhaling cautiously.  “Good.  Now hold it…One two three…let it out.”  He is about to congratulate the other man on his successful breath when those gorgeous emerald beauties bug out and Dean flees the room.  Lying there afraid to move, the crash of the bathroom door banging closed makes Cas shiver. 

This was too much for Dean.  Castiel should have known better than to spend the night.  It was selfish and cruel.  He slumps off the bed, pulling his jeans up, but leaving the green sweater on the dresser.  Castiel searches the bedroom, finding a dirty charcoal Henley under the bed.  Taking a deep whiff it smells deliciously like his hunter, so Cas puts it on.  The undeniable sound of someone vomiting in the toilet causes his stomach to twist into knots.  He should go.  The lobby has a lovely couch where the dancer can wait for Meg to come get him.  Then Dean can collect himself in a tranquil environment, free of his trigger.

He strides over to the bathroom door, calling through the wood, “Dean, I think it’s best if I take off.” 

There is a response from the hunter, but it’s garbled so Castiel can only make out one word, “Leave”.  The pain of his heart shattering causes his next few words to hitch in his throat; but the logical side of him knows that space would be best for Dean.

“Alright then, we can talk …later.  Goodbye.”  Without warning, something heavy strikes the door creating a resounding thud.  Castiel jumps back a little, startled by the noise. 

In a booming clear voice Dean replies, “NO Cas!  Do NOT leave.  Please stay.”

A bone crushing sense of relief saturates his soul.  “Okay.  Umm” He wants to lie down and wait it out, but its hardwood and cold.  The last thing they need is for them both to be freaking out.  Castiel wanders back to the bed and pulls two blankets off the top.  Then he makes a little warm nest in front of the door.  Once his head is on the heap, he notices that there is a significant crack between the door and the floor.  He can see the other man sprawled out on the tiles, Dean’s head turned away from him.  “Can I bring you anything?”

It’s chilly this morning and Dean is still dressed in merely boxers.  “Cas, do you need to be anywhere today?”

The question is odd, but maybe the hunter is trying to change the topic.  “I have an appointment with my therapist at 4pm, but you’ll probably be in Atlanta by then.”

“My phone, it’s on the nightstand can you get it?”

“Sure.”  Castiel retrieves the device slipping it easily through the gap.  Dean rolls over, their gazes meeting as he takes the phone.  He watches the hunter dial a number and listen for an answer.

“Hey Charlie, it's Dean.”  The elder Winchester blushes, trying to stop her comeback.  “We can talk about that later, I need a favor.  Can you rebook my flight to Atlanta?”

The two men continue to stare at each other as he waits Charlie’s retort.

“The 7:15 tonight is perfect.  Yeah, just email me the details.”  He nods as she speaks to him at length.  “Tell Sam I needed more time, he will know what I mean.”  Charlie’s answer makes Dean smile.  “Thanks.”  The green-eyed man ends the call, focusing on Castiel.  “I can drive you to Dr. Shurley’s before I head to the airport.”

“That’s not necessary Dean.”

The hunter rubs his eyes with the heel of his palms, groaning.  “God, I fucked this up.  We had such a great night and …I totally wrecked it.”

Castiel laughs, “Truthfully, it could have been either one of us.  We seem to be the constant ticking time bomb of mental health.”

Dean plops on his back, staring at the ceiling, “I would like to go on a positive note.  Let me hang in here for a little bit longer, and then I can head to the market around the corner.  Pick up some stuff so I can cook you a proper lunch.  Please Cas.”

Even in distress, this amazing man wants to cook for him.  Castiel curls up on his nest, releasing a soft sigh.  “I’m not going anywhere.”


	8. Patience by Guns N’ Roses

“How is Dean?”

Castiel smirks at the loaded question.  Dr. Shurley has asked this during several of their sessions lately.  His stunning hunter has been gone for two weeks now.  There is a huge part of him that doesn’t want to admit how important Dean has become in such a short time.  But he does accept that the answer is relevant to his own mood.  “He is in Houston today.”

The psychiatrist’s mouth turns up slightly at the corners.  “You have his schedule memorized?”

“No.”  Castiel sighs in annoyance, “You are fully aware that Dean texts me a photo from every new city so I can keep track.”  He promptly tugs out his phone, loading the newest picture.  It’s a selfie of Dean standing in front of the hotel wearing a dark pair of shades and a stunningly handsome grin.  He passes it Chuck.

“Remind me how often you two correspond?”  There is a reason for the query, but Dr. Shurley is gazing down at his notes for the session.

The dancer thinks for a minute.  He takes a moment to stretch on the dark brown leather couch.  Dr. Chuck Shurley has a warm and inviting office.  The entire space is filled with comfortable furniture, the walls painted a pale blue, and several blooming plants stand in the corner.  The far wall holds a sizeable window that allows the late afternoon sun to shine through.  Castiel enjoys the office just as much as the time spent with his psychiatrist.  “Well, depends on your definition of correspondence.  We text back and forth constantly. He sends a new photo from every city as I return the gesture, and we have talked on the phone three times.”

The other man nods his head, scribbling on the paper before him.  “What about face time?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I know you both have iPhones, so you should be able to do face time, yes?”

He searches his phone, easily finding the app.  “I guess so, why?”  He has been working with the good doctor long enough to see a slow build towards something.

“I’m thinking that your homework this week could be a face time session with Dean.”

He knows there’s a catch.  “I can pose the idea, but he’s going to turn me down.  He will barely call me waiting for an escape from the other men so he can dash off somewhere by himself.  I’ve told you about his desire for privacy.”

“First of all, I would like to remind you that I personally believe Dean should have a therapist too.  His need for privacy is just a way of hiding who he is from the world.  This is not good for either of you.”  Shurley scans up, catching Castiel’s glare, “Second, I am confident that if you tell Dean that a face time session with him is crucial, he will agree to it.”

Castiel blushes because he is correct, of course.  The hunter may want to keep his relationship with Cas away from the cameras, but he rarely denies the dancer anything.  “So just face time with Dean. How is that homework?”

“I want you to touch the screen while you talk with him.  Next time we meet I want a detailed description of how that made you feel, caressing Dean through the phone.”

Now the catch has been identified.  Castiel considers the assignment.  “Will I have to inform Dean what I’m doing?”

“Of course, make your intentions very clear.  I would be interested in learning his response to the encounter too.”  Only then does Dr. Shurley break eye contact to jot down his newest idea, giving Castiel a reprieve to determine his thoughts on the homework.  Several times over the past two weeks he has dragged his finger down the scruff of Dean’s chin.  However, this time the eyes staring back at him will be live.  He nervously chews on the inside of his cheek, missing Dr. Shurley’s attempt at getting his attention.  The psychiatrist has to clear his throat before Cas glimpses up to meet his gaze.  “Castiel, how does this make you feel?  On a scale of one to ten, how is your anxiety?”

“Five.”  It is true, Castiel is uneasy about the task, but he also senses excitement.  “I want to do it, but not entirely.  What if he flips out over it?”

Chuck readjusts the reading glasses on his nose.  “Well, I think that may be a warning sign for both of you.”  The old school gold alarm clock jingles, alerting them to the time.  “Alright Castiel, the hour is up.  I will see you Thursday?”

“Yes.”  He enters the small, makeshift waiting area, spotting Meg.  She brings him twice a week, waiting an hour each time, reading her celebrity magazines. 

His friend leads him from the room to the stairwell out of the building, “Okay, Clarence, do you want to just walk over to the Winchester offices?”

The weather is nice today, and it is only ten blocks so he nods his head smiling.  They dropped off their personal information and filled out some employment paperwork last week, but Charlie called yesterday saying she needed a few more signatures.  He and Meg both have passports, so the biggest hurdle is visas and shots.  Castiel is not happy about the shots, but to travel through Africa, they are a necessity.  It is a relief that all the expenses are being picked up by the client, a Mr. Crowley.

When they reach the outdoors, his phone buzzes in his pocket.  The dancer pulls it out, opening the new message from Dean.  He is motionless, totally frozen to the sidewalk.  It’s a photo of Dean’s feet splashing in a pool with the comment:

Dean:   _Hey look we have an indoor heated pool!_

Castiel rolls his eyes, although a little warmer in his own bathing suit region from the photo.  He hastily replies,

Cas: _The water looks amazing._

He can hear Dean laughing in his head before he sees the next text. 

Dean: _Are you really focused on the water?_

Cas: _Yes.  Isn’t that the point?_

There is no way in hell he is acknowledging that Dean has him.

Dean: _Sure.  I totally believe you._  

Castiel snaps a picture of his lips blowing a kiss and sends it with no message. 

Dean: _Now that’s a beautiful picture._

Cas: _Thank you._

Dean: _How was the shrink?_

Cas: _Good.  He gave me an assignment that includes you.  I’ll tell you later.  The street is busy so I need to concentrate._

Dean: _Okay, call me when you leave Charlie._

Cas: _like, call you to talk on the phone????_

This is very odd because Dean has always initiated their phone calls, his hunter picking a time when the camera crew was off elsewhere.

Dean: _No on a tin can. Yes on the phone.  The guys went out to dinner for the evening, so I am just here with Sam._

Cas: _Okay_

The dancer hears someone whistling.  He notices Meg waving her arms wildly. Crap, Cas had been so focused on texting with Dean he whizzed right by the Winchester office building.  His friend’s expression is a mixture of bewilderment and annoyance.  “Did you even need me to walk you here?”

“What do you mean?”

Meg huffs as she opens the door for him.  “It just seems that when you are texting with lover boy, I become irrelevant.”

He halts in mid stride to glare down at the petite woman.  “That is not true, Meg.  I like Dean, but I would be dead without you.”

“Oh yes, the bully in our kindergarten class was capable of murder.”  The snark is back in her tone, so all must be forgiven.

They both nod to the doorman who simply signals them to keep moving.  “His name was Todd, and he was frightful.  Always screaming ‘kneel before Todd’ on the playground.  And that is not what I was referring to?”

“I know, and thank you.”  They reach the door to the offices and walk directly into the apartment.  Charlie has told them to think of the place as a second home.  She even gave Meg a key, stating that all employees have access.  Castiel doubts that, but he likes the inclusion.  “Charlie, we are here!”  Meg screams as she dashes to the kitchen for food.  Castiel grabs a seat at the large conference table in the living room.

His friend returns with two PB&J sandwiches and a couple bottles of water.  Charlie enters right on her heels with a stack of papers. “Oh good, you found something to eat.  I have leftover lasagna in the fridge if you want it.”

“Oh, don’t worry, this is just our appetizers.” 

Castiel starts at Meg’s rudeness, “No this is enough, thank you.”

“Fuck that Clarence, we didn’t have lunch.”  Charlie has been pulling out specific papers from the stack, but she pauses at Meg’s comment.  Jesus, why can’t his caretaker keep her mouth shut.  Two meals a day is plenty. Especially when their cash is really tight.  They both chose to have a late breakfast, then waiting until they got here for a free dinner.

The redhead passes several packets to them both.  “You have a key and I keep the kitchen fully stocked.  Dean would fly back simply to kick my ass if either of you were going hungry.”  Castiel gives a slight tilt to his chin, embarrassed that supplying them with nourishment is now a job for her.  “Anyway, here are your employee packets.  Double check the bank accounts for your direct deposits.  You each get a five thousand dollar sign-on bonus now, and then the rest after the trip.  Also, your health insurance kicks in tonight at 12:01am.”

Meg chokes on her gulp of water, “Health insurance?  We will be working for a month.”

“Well, it’s easier to buy you both health insurance than pay someone to dole out your shots and meds.  I just need you to pick out a physician and I will fax over the requirements for the trip.  Also, it covers all prescriptions at 100%.”

Now it’s Castiel’s turn to startle, “Like, any kind of prescriptions?”

“Yup.  I don’t have your cards yet, but there is a sheet in front of you that will work until they show up.  The insurance covers all Doctor visits completely, including psychiatric care.”  Charlie is battling a huge grin on her face.

“Wait.”  Castiel is uncomfortable with this because it seems like Dean has just picked up the tab for Dr. Shurley.  “For how long?”

The office manager suddenly becomes interested in another pile of paperwork.  “A year.”

He stands from shock and maybe a touch of anger.  “A year?  No, we do not accept.”

“Shut up, Clarence.”  His friend bangs on the table harshly, which shocks him back into his chair.  “This means I don’t have to do the yucky stuff for a fucking year.”  She hisses the next part in his ear.  “I don’t ask much of you, but this, whatever it is, we will take, do you understand?”

Charlie shrugs hesitantly, “Look, it’s paid in full for a year.  Also, both boys had to sign off on this, so don’t get mad at Dean.”

“Okay, but there is no way they do this for everyone.”  He sighs leaning back in his seat.  Castiel’s head is spinning at the insane price tag of the gift.  Yet, he can’t refuse because it helps Meg just as much as him.  

“Welcome to the Winchester family.”  Charlie giggles nervously trying to cut the tension in the room.

When they arrive home that evening, Castiel charges to the bathroom, slamming the door.  That sly bastard is wrapping the dancer around his finger and Cas hates it.  Now the request for a phone call makes perfect sense, so he dials the familiar number.

Dean answers on the first ring.  “Hey Cas…”

He doesn’t even wait for the sentence to finish as he cuts off his hunter.  “Dean, I can’t believe you did that.  I don’t appreciate being railroaded.  We should have at least discussed this beforehand.”

“No.”  Dean’s tone is gentle.  “You would have turned me down, and this is about saving Meg from the private room gigs.  She can stop now, right?”

Castiel drops his forehead against the bathroom wall.  “Yes,” he whispers all the fury draining from him.  “Meg’s working on our budget to double check the numbers, but it appears to be doable.”

“Good.  She does an excellent job of taking care of you.  Let me do this for her?”  There are the words he needs to hear, giving Castiel a choice instead of cornering him like a frightened animal.

The two men listen in silence as he gathers himself.  It has been a very long time since someone besides his family or Meg has cared for Castiel.  This should be sending the dancer into a massive sea of anxiety, but it doesn’t.  His chest is free from tension.  The fall and rise of his breath is calm.  Cas’s shoulders hang low and relaxed; his eyes are shut, but loose.  Finally, he collects his thoughts and discovers his shaky voice, “Thank you, Dean.”

“No problem, Cas.  Happy to do it.”

“Dean, this goes beyond flowers and candy.  Can you tell me why?”  He hears the plea in his question.

“Castiel Novak, you are important.”  The strength behind those words bleed into the dancer's soul, making him smile.

****

Following the insurance debacle, Castiel forgot to ask Dean about setting up a face time.  Suddenly it’s Thursday morning, and he still hasn’t done his assignment.  He has his next therapy session that afternoon at 4pm, so it’s now or never.  Cas is kicking himself for doing this last minute, but maybe the lack of build up could be useful.  He decides to send a text requesting a moment with the hunter.

Cas: _Hey Dean, Do you have time today for a quick face time chat?  It’s important._

Dean: _Give me five minutes._

Holy Shit, he was expecting a battle or at least a specific time after lunch.  The expanding pressure in his chest just grew three fold.  It’s nine in the morning.  The dancer hasn’t showered, brushed his teeth, or even combed his dark, wavy hair.  Castiel dashes to the bathroom to at least put some kind of order to his massive raven locks.  Without warning, he recognizes the chime for a face time call.  Well, fuck, no time for even a proper freak out.

He snatches his phone, lounging across the couch on his back.  He accepts the incoming call and within minutes, a shadow of Dean’s face loads on the screen.  “Dean is that you?”

“Yeah, sorry hold on.”  There are sounds of Dean shuffling about on his side.  A flashlight flicks on illuminating his hunters face.  “Can you see me okay?”

Castiel grins, but the anxiety still lingers.  “Yes, I can see you just fine.”  The dancer squints, trying to make out the objects behind Dean’s head.  “Are those coats?  Dean, are you in a closet?”

“This was the only place I could think to hide with such a short notice.  You said it was important.”

He can’t stop himself from bursting out in a huge belly laugh.  Dean is actually hiding in a closet to talk with him.  “Seriously, Dean, the irony of this moment is perfect.”

“Well shut up, and just break up with me.”

That kills the giggling in a flash.  “Dean Winchester, we are NOT breaking up.”  It astonishes Castiel that Dean thinks they are far enough in the relationship that a break up would be warranted and that the dancer would be heartless enough to do it on face time.

“Oh.”  The hunter scrunches his face in embarrassment.  “Then what is so important that we needed to face time immediately?”

“I merely said sometime today, because my homework for Dr. Shurley is to touch your face on the phone.”  Castiel isn’t sure about Dean’s intentions, but the break-up business, along with laughing at the closet issue has him quite relaxed.  “Okay, so give me a second and I’m going to stroke your cheek.”

The poor green-eyed man sits in bewilderment, waiting for Cas to make a move.  He shuts his eyes counting, one, two, three, four, five.  When he opens his blue orbs, he leaps forward, leaving no chance of panic.  Castiel lifts his hand, using his pointer finger, as he caresses the freckle stained cheekbone of his hunter.  He lists four emotions pouring through his veins while he continues the visual embrace; fear, excitement, arousal, and guilt. “Dean, how did this make you feel?”

“This was pretty awesome.  I think tomorrow we should make out,” Dean winks, smirking at his hilarious idea. 

“You think you’re pretty damn cute.”

“Oh, I’m fucking adorable.”  God he’s created a monster.  “No, but seriously Cas, I think we should face time more often.”  There is a violent banging noise on Dean’s end.  “Well, it looks like I have been found.  Bye Cas.”

“Goodbye Dean.”  The call ends, leaving Castiel with a sense of accomplishment, and the memory of touching that gorgeous face while emerald gems watched. 

 

 


	9. Desire by Meg Myers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to staunchlyblue for suggesting the song for this chapter!
> 
> My editor highly recommends listening to the song while you read. :)

* * *

 

Dean leans back, studying his cards.  Every Sunday, around lunch time while on tour, his camera crew gets together for poker.  This week, it’s in his room.  They use the desk from the hotel, pulled away from the wall so all five men can sit around the makeshift table.  Each guy tosses in $200 at the beginning of the month, and it seems to just pass hands.  Sam perches on the end of the bed, grunting at his clearly crappy hand.  Actually, his younger brother is an excellent player, but he’s been into the whiskey already.  Bad for his wallet, but great for the other four men.  Kevin chews on his cuticle taking a lifetime to decide how many cards.

“Dude, just decide before Balthy keels over from old age?”  Ash is playing dealer.

The team’s location producer, Balthazar, tuts, “I may be the oldest here, but I will outlive you all.”  His thick British accent slurred by the copious amounts of alcohol. This is their one day off a week, so they tend to spend it drunk.  Over the past few years, Dean has become fairly close to the crew that follows him around several months during the year.  Kevin was just out of college when he took the job as their camera operator, and Ash is a whiz with electronics, making him an excellent sound guy.  The team has slowly become a family.  In fact, the five of them did this exact same thing the night of his father’s funeral.

Kevin sighs, tilting forward and hiding his cards, “okay, give me one.”

Dean enjoys their company, but in seven days he will be back in New York.  Just the thought of seeing his angel makes the hunter’s heart beat a little faster.  These past few weeks have been agonizing for him.  How can Dean miss someone he’s never even touched?  Dean’s had a lot of pent up sexual frustration lately, so he’s been practicing a routine for Castiel.  It seems if one gives enough tips at a place, exotic dancers will give you lessons.  Meg has been a huge asset in his quest of locating clubs in every city he visits.  Today it’s Tulsa, OK, and he has an appointment with Rebecca Warren tomorrow to practice his pole work; thank you Beatrice.

He’s settles on requesting two cards when his phone rings.  Sam’s gaze slides over to spot the caller ID before Dean can hide it.  His beautiful brother winks, “Crowley calling again.  Damn it, that guy never leaves us alone.  Better take it outside.”

“Sorry guys.”  The men all grumble their annoyance as Dean slips from the room hastily, sending a silent thank you to his brother.  Their crew is aware of all the nondisclosure agreements with Crowley, so no one is suspicious, even though the actual caller is Castiel. The hunter’s senses are on red alert because his dancer never calls him without a warning text.  His room is on the first floor, allowing Dean to walk outside as he answers the phone.

“Hey Cas.”

 There isn’t an immediate response, just the animalistic noises of someone wailing in the background.  Dean’s knees go weak, forcing him to drop to the sidewalk.  “Cas!”

“Dean.”  The voice is female, definitely not Castiel.  “Hold on a minute, I’m trying to calm him down.”

The hunter’s stomach lurches at the realization that the screaming is his angel.  Dean gulps loudly, “Ok.”

He can make out the muffled sounds of Meg trying to shush Cas, reminding him to count and breathe.  When that doesn’t work, he listens as she instructs him to take an extra dose of his medicine.  After several excruciating minutes, she returns her focus to him, “Someone’s been in the apartment.  Castiel is adamant that it’s Lucifer.”

“What? Who?”  Meg refuses to use Nick’s real name, saying someone that demonic doesn’t deserve a proper Christian name, so she calls Cas’s ex-boyfriend after the devil.  “You guys live in the South Bronx.  Anyone could have robbed you.”

“They left some colorful artwork.  I’ll send you a photo.”

Waiting for the picture is pure torture.  Once the image loads, Dean glances at the graffiti.  On a wall behind an old, weathered tan couch is a sentence, spray painted in red. 

**Remember my sweet boy**

**You are mine**

Struggling against his own freak out, Dean squeaks, “How does he know this was Lucifer?”

“During his extended stay at La Casa De Evil Bastard, the jerk repeated those words as he fucked him.”  She sounds just as wrecked as Dean, but doing a much better job at hiding it.

Dean dashes to a nearby bush, puking up the contents of his abdomen, the dizziness is overwhelming.  He permits one more dose of terror to wash over his soul before he steels himself, although the ache in his chest remains constant.  This is a problem that he can fix.  Nick, or better yet, Lucifer, is showing his hand early, divulging to them that he is aware of Cas’s residence.  “Meg.”

He lingers, listening to her soothe Cas with kind, loving words.  The pain, the fear this asshole is causing his angel, has no comparison to the rage swelling in the hunter.  Fuck Lucifer, he is messing with the wrong family.  Finally, she is back, “Okay, you have my attention.”

“First, pack a bag for each of you.  Just enough to last a few days, but don’t leave anything dire behind because you will not be returning.  Second, take a cab to Queens, Brooklyn, and lower Manhattan. Change to a new cab in each borough before heading to the Winchester offices. Turn off your cell phones in Brooklyn and don't use them again. Do you have that?"

She is scribbling on paper, “yes, I’m writing it down.”

“Keep your eyes open for anyone tailing you.  When you reach our office building, tell the door attendant that you suspect someone has been following you.  There is protocol he will take to lock down the front lobby.  I will call Charlie and she will meet you there with clean phones.  My Dad’s furniture is still in the master bedroom, so you two can stay there until a better solution becomes available.  Gadreel can get anything you need from the apartment after that.  Do not go back yourself, do you understand?”

“Got it.”  Her voice wavers, but she’s still in control.  “Tell Charlie to bring Benedryl.  He’s getting a wicked rash.”

“From what?”  The hunter holds back the ewe.

The eye roll from Meg is prominent, even over the phone, “A severe rash is a side effect of anxiety, moron.”

“Oh.  I will put it on the list.”

Dean hears her conversing with Castiel, “He wants to speak with you.”

“Give him the phone.”

A broken sobbing sound breaks through the silence, “Dean… it doesn’t… matter… he will… find me.”

The hunter has to take a second to scrape together the inner strength to not fall into pieces.  He wraps his arms tightly around his body.  The defeated sound in his angel’s tone slays his heart. “Cas, what do I do for a living?”

“Hunt.”  Castiel’s answer is distressingly timid.

“I teach people to hunt dangerous, wild animals, safely.  The first step in every lesson is how to hide from the animal before you become their prey.  I will keep you safe, my angel.”  There is no reply, so he asks, “Do you trust me?”

The answer is more confident.  “Always.”

“Good. I gave Meg directions. Follow them.  I wish to God I could cut this damn tour short, but the contract is rock solid.  Please forgive me?”

Castiel chuckles, releasing tension from both men.  “Of course, Meg is packing now.  Can we face time tonight?”

“Hell yes, but from your new phone.  You can’t use this one again.  Call me, using the landline, the second you are inside the Winchester offices.  Keep the door bolted, and have Charlie teach you the alarm system.  No more taking the subway, it leaves you too vulnerable.  Take taxis if you can’t walk.”

“Dean, that will get expensive.”

“There is a couch in the front office.  Look under it and you will find a coffee can full of cash.  Use it until I get back.”

“No.  That is too much..”

Dean sighs with frustration.  “Cas, you can pay me back if you want to, but this is me being selfish.  If something happened to you… please.”  The last word is more like begging.

“Alright, we will do it your way, for now.  Meg’s ready to go.”  There are the sounds of Castiel shuffling as he stands taking a deep breath.  “Thank you, Dean.”

“No problem, Cas.”  With that, the call ends.

Dean’s hands are shaking and cold while his breath is labored.  He’s done everything he can.  For now,  it’s up to them.  His voice vanishes in panic, so Dean texts the information to Charlie.  She responds that she will meet them there.  The hunter startles when a hand grasps his shoulder.  Dean staggers upward to embrace his baby brother.

“Dean is everything okay.”

He forces a response from his dry throat, “No, but it will be.” 

****

Seven days later, Dean is finally home in NYC.  He has face timed with Castiel every day since the incident, along with almost hourly texts.  The hunter knows his angel’s every move. 

The taxi creeps along through traffic, headed for The Devil’s Trap.  Meg and Dean have been working on this surprise for Cas all week.  First, he told his kind angel he would be home tomorrow, whisking him off for the day.  Second, Meg then suggested to Castiel that they work on the new routine Sunday morning, so he would have more time with his hunter.  Thus, at 10am, the two are alone at the club with two poles set up on stage.

As the vehicle pulls to the corner for Dean to exit, he turns to his brother, “Are you okay spending time with Meg?  I don’t want her roaming the streets alone.”

“She can’t be that horrible.  We will be fine.  I will wait in the cab, just send her out.”

“Thanks, Sammy.”  Dean pats his brother’s shoulder as he slides out of the car.

God, he’s really nervous, but the thrill of seeing his angel pushes him forward.  The security guard for the club opens the door for him.  “Nice to see you Mr. Winchester, I will be taking an early break.”

“Perfect, here, lunch is on me.”  He slips a fifty in the guard’s hand before closing the wooden door behind him. 

When Dean enters the theater, he spots Meg leaning against the wall near the entrance.  He taps her elbow as she turns to face him whispering.  “The lights are set up just as we discussed.  Here is the remote for the music.  I’ve got your song cued up, just hit play and it will run over and over on a loop.”

He glances at the stage, seeing the white backdrop behind the poles.  Everything is how he had imagined it.  “Thanks Meg.  This is awesome.  Sam is outside in a taxi, waiting for you.”

“Dean, I don’t need a babysitter.  The douche is after Cas, not me.”  Her voice cracks a little.

“Really, because I’m pretty sure you are the one that tore down his perfect set up.  Lucifer obviously has friends willing to do his dirty work.   He can use you, Meg.  Let’s not give him the opportunity.  Sam is ready to take you shopping and to brunch.”

“Shopping?”

The hunter snickers softly, “Yes, now get going before he changes his mind.”

“Later Winchester. Have fun.”

He doesn’t even hear her leave, his focus completely on the dark raven-haired man.  Castiel is working out a bit of choreography.  Dean inhales at the beauty of his angel.  Castiel’s tattoo shines with sweat under the lights.  The dancer is only wearing a black pair of spandex shorts that barely cover his sublime ass.  Cas’s muscles flex with strength as he spins his body, lifting one leg to his shoulder.  The move is graceful, but powerful, fueling Dean’s desire.  The door is locked, and  there is no one else in the building.  The hunter takes in a deep breath, one, two, three, four, five…exhale.  He can do this.  Fuck his father and his shitty beliefs in what makes a real man.   In this moment, there is no one else in the world but he and Cas.

Silently, Dean removes his clothes, folding them over the closest booth.  The effort is hindered by the trembling of his body, conflicted between trepidation and exhilaration.  He is left with a tight pair of forest green boxer briefs, nothing else.  The hunter and his prey will be on equal footing.  Dean snatches the controller for the soundboard as he strides down to the edge of the stage, making sure to stay in the shadows.  He starts when Cas yells, “Meg, turn on the music and get your ass down here!”

 _Now or never_ is his last thought before pushing the play button, and tossing the remote to the floor.  The loud bang of the opening riff surrounds them.  “That’s the wrong…”

Dean climbs onto the stage, facing Castiel with his hands open.  The shock on his angel’s face is priceless, but the hunter has only begun.  He puts a finger to his lips in a hushing sign.  Cas nods, his eyes locked on Dean for dear life.  The hunter saunters over to the pole, and grasping it tight, he rolls his hips seductively into the brass pillar.  Castiel’s eyes slither from surprise to a dark want as he views Dean’s sultry movements.

_Baby, I wanna touch you_

_I wanna breathe into your well_

_See, I gotta hunt you_

_I gotta bring you to my hell_

The hunter grins as he releases one hand, licking his thumb, then stroking it up his torso, pausing at his nipple. He halts, flicking each nub until they rise hard before continuing the ascent up to his mouth, suckling the digit with vigor, his hips never stopping.  He hears a deep, feral growl from the other man.  Cas then crosses to the other pole, mimicking Dean’s movements perfectly.  A moan escapes his lungs, battling with the urge to touch.

Challenge accepted.  Dean climbs up the pole, then using his biceps, he spins around, scissoring his legs.  Cas slants his head to the side with a wicked smirk.  He repeats Dean’s moves seamlessly, but adds an extra spin at the end, landing in a split on the floor.  God, the hunter desperately wants to put those limber legs to good use.

_How do you want me, how do you want me?_

_How do you want me, how do you want me?_

He winks at his angel, swinging with all his might until Dean flips upside down, wrapping his knee around the pole above his head.  Loosening his calf, the hunter gradually slides down until his hands reach the ground.  He completes three reverse pushups illustrating the muscular cut of his arms.  The gasp from Castiel is worth the month of working towards this moment.  Dean drops to his knees, facing his angel.  Cas is about to do the same move again when Dean shakes his head no.  Using his pointer finger, he beckons the angel to him.  Then, on all fours, the hunter crawls toward Cas.  His beautiful dancer mirrors his movements, the two men creeping closer, inch by inch. 

_I wanna feel you, I want it all_

_I wanna feel you, I want it all_

Dean glances at the white backdrop, halting in his tracks, raising his hand for Castiel to do the same.  The hunter points to their shadows so prominently displayed on the white material.  Cas is staring at their dark images as Dean reaches his hand out, but it’s his shadow hand that caresses the dancer’s shadow face.  A genuine smile graces his angel’s face as he leans into the faux embrace.  Feeling braver, Dean puts his hand out, nodding towards it.  Castiel grasps the request as his hand lifts to Dean’s.  The two men freeze as their shadow hands hold each other.  Finally, the hunter binds his arms behind his back staying on his knees, leaning over slightly.  The dancer follows suit, allowing the two shadow people on the backdrop to kiss. 

No matter what happens, Dean will always look at this exact instance as his first kiss with Castiel.  They now have shared an intimate bond without ever sensing the other’s skin.  He moves painfully slow, lowering himself down to the wooden stage, staying on his stomach, motioning for Castiel to proceed as well.  Once both lovers are lying flat, Dean stretches his right hand out as his angel does his left their fingertips are nearly grazing.  The hunter is aware of the heat building between them, shooting straight to his crotch.  He and Cas are panting, but Dean’s certain it’s not all from physical exertion.  God damn, this is the sexiest thing he has ever done in his entire life.

His dancer stares directly into his soul, never blinking, “Welcome home, Dean.” 

He is home.  Not in returning to New York or his apartment, but letting himself be lost in those sparkling blue eyes.   

_How do you want me, how do you want me?_

The words repeat in the chorus of the song a perfect representation of Dean’s heart.  He will be whatever his angel needs.


	10. #1 Crush by Garbage (Original version)

 

“No way Cas, this is in middle of the damn park.  There are people everywhere.”

Dean agreed to let Castiel pick their Thursday lunch spot.  He stupidly assumed he’d pick a nice little quiet restaurant with dark lighting, but nope.  His angel made a picnic basket full of goodies, grabbing a quilt off the bed, and hiking it to Central Park.  “Dean, it’s a beautiful, April afternoon, of course it’s busy.  You promised I could choose.”  The dancer’s hip pops out and his lower lip follows.  Then without warning, his favorite sparkling blue orbs shoot a sad puppy dog glance to his heart.  Holy shit, is this Castiel pouting?  Dean is doomed for all eternity because it is the cutest thing he has ever seen in his 35 years of life.  “But there _are_ a lot of children around, maybe something more secluded.”

Now Dean’s mind stutters, what the hell did he put in their meal that couldn’t be eaten in front of children?  Although he does like the idea of a more hidden location, “There are some nice spots up in the tree line.”

 “Excellent, we have a compromise.”

The hunter carries the quilt as he trails behind Castiel.  The sun is warm with a cool, light breeze, giving a fresh feel to the air.  Dean is wearing his standard uniform of a grey Henley with jeans, and his boots.  Castiel chose hip hugging jeans that hang just low enough to show off the cut of his muscles.  The Led Zeppelin t-shirt, stolen from Dean, fits gloriously as his tattoo peers out near the elbow.  God, he would give his left nut to kiss just one speck of his silky smooth skin.  Every inch of Castiel’s body invades his dreams, taking residence for the foreseeable future. 

Cas settles on a spot hidden by surrounding bushes on one side, but a lovely flower garden on the other.  After the food is spread out and they are both eating, his angel cuts to the chase, “Where are you going tomorrow?”

“I told you already.  In a little over a week, I leave again, so I need to spend the morning letting baby purr.”  The gleam in Cas’s eyes leave no doubt Dean is busted.

“Don’t lie to me.  If you were just going for a drive, I would be coming along.  Am I allowed to ride shotgun?”

“No.”  He spouts the answer faster than needed, damn it.  He sighs deeply, “I’m going up to Otisville.”

He expects Cas to be angry, or at least ask him not to go, but like always, the man shocks him.  “You know that’s what he wants.  Why play his games?”  The query is full of curiosity.

Otisville, New York is home to many fine things, but mainly a rather large Federal Correctional Institution or the current cage for Lucifer.  “We both know the colorful graffiti was left for me.  You are not his, not now, not ever, and I want to look at his face and make that crystal fucking clear.”

“My hero,” Cas whispers in a faint hush, but Dean heard the words like his angel had shouted.  The dancer sprawls out over the quilt, patting the empty space next to him.  Dean obeys merrily.  Green eyes meet blue as their hands drift so close, a sheet of cardboard might not make it through.  “Be safe.  You are important.”

“I will.”  The two men gaze at each other, their breath synchronizing together like a song. 

“Would you be willing to try an idea with me?”  Castiel has a naughty smirk on his face, and Dean realizes that the conversation has moved to better things.

Dean winks, “Dude, I took stripper classes for a month.  I’m apparently up for several new experiences.”

“Stay there.”  Castiel sits up, retrieving a package of cherry twizzlers from the basket.  His dancer tears a single strand from the bag before laying back down to face Dean.  “You push your boundaries for me all the time.  I think it’s my turn.”

“You aren’t going with me, and that’s final.”  The sternness of his statement cannot be denied.

Castiel shakes his head, “No, if I saw him again before I’m ready, there would be nothing left but a shell.”  A shiver travels over Dean’s spine.  The honesty in that sentence is terrifying.  “I meant the limits of my Haphephobia.”

“Cas, No.  You don’t have to prove yourself with me.” 

The cerulean eyes shut, “Baby steps.  If I’m going to improve, I need to move forward.”  His gaze returns with a fiery glare.  “Or do you prefer me like this so your boundaries are secure?”

Dean’s fingers clench along with his jaw, “hell no, Cas.  Don’t you ever think for one second I don’t want you healthy, but why push so hard?”

“Dr. Shurley says it’s necessary to have long term goals.  Then find little steps each day toward the finish line.”

“What is your end game, Cas?”

The dancer falls on his back, glimpsing the bright open sky.  “I used to have one long term ambition, but now I have two.  The first is to dance ballet again.  I’m getting older, so maybe nothing prestigious like the American Ballet Company, but a smaller troupe just for a few years.  Then be a teacher.  I like kids. Retiring as a dance instructor has always been my plan.”

The hunter grins at the simple desires of his angel.  “And the second one?”

“You see that big field where we were standing earlier?”  Cas points over to the grassy knoll littered with people.  “I want to kiss you right there in front of the entire city of New York.”

His breathe hitches in his throat, for a moment, an inkling of fear slipping in to his mind.  “I like that goal.”  He eventually stammers out.

“Good.”  Castiel lifts the strip of red candy, and then motions for them both to sit up face to face.  “Our mission today, if you choose to accept it, will begin with your mouth at one end of the twizzler and mine at the other.”

 The hunter smiles, bouncing his head in agreement, as he snares one end between his teeth.  He gapes as Cas’s plush, moist lips clench the opposite side.  “Now what?”  Dean probes while struggling wildly to not drop the candy.

“You remain completely still while I attempt something.”

Dean grumbles, “Okay.”  Every muscle in his body tenses to hold his posture.  At first, the hunter can’t make out what Castiel is implementing, but then it hits him like a two by four.  Gradually, his angel slithers his mouth up the length of the twizzler until he’s so close they could kiss.  Cas holds for one breath then he pulls his head back, freeing the candy, wet from his tongue.  The dancer picks up speed bobbing his head back and forth repeatedly soaking the red string in saliva.  Jesus Christ, Castiel is deep throating the Twizzler!

The thought of that very specific sexual act makes his cock swell.  His breath becomes ragged as he battles the building urges of his body.  Lust saturates his blood as it rushes to his groin.  “Cas, I’m not …fuck me… I can’t…”  He scans the area around them, alarmed that someone might spot their activities.

The bluest orbs of the Caribbean Sea latch onto his and halt any chance of exhaling.  It is not fear from his father’s retribution that’s controlling him anymore, it’s the heavenly gaze of his angel.  Castiel never pauses from his ministrations on the candy as he murmurs, “Calm down, we are hidden away from the world.  Keep your eyes on me.”  His voice is a dark baritone rumble that’s sexy as fuck, “cum for me Dean.”

“What?”  That’s when Dean becomes aware that Cas has been rubbing his own dick through his jeans.  “I can’t…”  He is suddenly cold, regardless of the temperature outside.  The hunter’s hands tremble over the mere suggestion.

“Dean.”  His voice is assertive, aiding Dean’s thoughts to find peace.  Drool runs from Castiel’s mouth, as he never falters on suckling the candy.  The action is hypnotic, permitting the green-eyed man to forget everything but Cas.  The hunter inhales unhurriedly as he stares at glittering blue gems.  An imaginary bubble surrounds them, giving intimacy to the moment.  His fingers float on their own accord down to his bulging cock as they stroke the fabric.  Tears trickle to his cheeks as Castiel commands, “Now.”

His angel bites down, dropping his end of the sweet treat as the hunter’s vision goes blurry from the massive orgasm blasting through him.  A tender whimper escapes Cas’s throat as he climaxes in tandem.  The two men collapse on the blanket panting for air.  Castiel huffs loudly, catching his breath before stating, “I’m proud of you.”  Dean chews on the candy, slurping up the remnants of Cas.  He can clearly delineate between the cherry of the Twizzler and the taste of his angel.

****

Dean stirs the next morning, a sense of dread spreading through his stomach.  The alarm will go off in ten minutes, giving him just enough time to get ready and head out for Otisville.  He turns it off so not to wake the person attached to the wild waves of raven hair next to him.  They crashed at the offices last night.  A blanket barricade already in place because Meg usually sleeps here.  However, she takes the cake for true BFF as she slept on Dean’s couch. 

God, Castiel dozing is so adorable it makes his teeth ache.  The hunter fights the desire to touch his messy locks.  Cas would never know, but to Dean, that would be a betrayal.  No, he will wait until his angel asks for his caress.

He slips out of bed guided by the call of coffee, when he pauses outside of Sam’s office.  Dean would expect to find a snoring, petite brunette, but instead his brother is typing on his laptop while Meg perches on the edge of the desk, reading a magazine.  Interesting, he can’t figure out why, but it’s just odd.

“Hi ya Dean-o, ready to be catnip for Satan?”

Dean groans turning back towards his caffeine quest, “Fuck off Meg.”

Ten minutes later, Castiel stumbles into the kitchen.  “Why are we up this early?”

“It’s 8am Cas.  Most of America is already at work.”  His angel’s reply is a simple huff as he grabs a mug.  “The drive will take me about ninety minutes, and visiting hours start at ten.”

When the dancer swivels back to face him, his expression is serious.  “You don’t have to go.”  Castiel winks, “I have more Twizzlers?”

“That offer is severely tempting, but he put me on his list.  He knows I’m coming.  If I back out now, it will be a sign of weakness.  Nope there is no turning back.”  He heads to the shower when, for a brief moment, he almost kisses Castiel’s cheek.  They both freeze, Dean’s lips hovering near Cas’s face.  “Sorry.”  He blushes as he dashes out of the room.

Castiel remains a shadow behind him until it’s time to leave.  “When do you have to be at the club?”

“Three for some rehearsal time before we open.”

“I will see you before then, I promise.”  His angel bounces his head affirmatively as he leans against the far wall of the conference room. 

He exits the apartment, but as the door is shutting, he hears Meg yelling, “Give ‘em hell.”

****

The federal prison in Otisville is not what Dean imagined.  Think less HBO’s Oz and more Netflix’s Orange is the New Black.  This man kidnapped and brutally raped his angel for two weeks, and he gets three years here.  Well actually 17 months due to overcrowding and good behavior.  Dean’s faith in the justice system is dying a quick death as he waits for his name to be called.

Eventually, he hears “Dean Winchester” over the constant hum of conversation in the waiting area.  He is patted down before being led to a large room with a couple dozen tables.  One side for the prisoner the other for their friends and family, although, Dean would not put himself in either category, ever. 

Glancing up, Dean spots a dark blonde man with blue eyes waving at him.  It’s almost eerie how normal the devil can appear.  The gentleman gestures to the opposite side of his table.  The hunter sits down, trying to size up his opponent.

The two men stare calmly.  “Well Mr. Winchester, what can I do for you?”  Lucifer leans back in his seat, crossing his legs like their having brunch at the Ritz.  Sadly, the orange jumpsuit ruins the effect.

“Cut the shit, we both know the message was meant for me.  So here I am.”  Dean tilts forward, placing his elbows on the table.

“Here you are, days after your return to New York.  If I say bark, will you obey like a good dog?”

Dean’s jaw grinds, “Look, this ends here and now.  So say your peace.”

“Oh that’s not how to play this game, Dean?”  Lucifer strokes his chin as if deep in thought.  “You are just a place holder for my boy until the Master gets home.  You, little soldier, are disposable.”

“Don’t call him boy.  He has a name.”

“I’m sure he does, but my toys so rarely need one.  We can call him ‘that sweet tasty hole’, but unfortunately, you’ve never experienced his perky ass.”

The muscles in his hands tighten, “True, but I woke up to Castiel’s beautiful body next to me.  You, however, had the view from your cell.”

“Actually, my cellmate gives excellent head in the morning.  I’m fairly certain you masturbated in the shower, alone.”

Motherfucker, this guy is one hell of a douche, but also correct. 

“Can I tell you a secret?”  The other man beckons the hunter closer, dropping the volume of his tone.  “If you fuck him hard enough, he will whimper when he cums.”

Dean grows a fiendish grin, “That’s not a secret… at least not to me.”

“You, little shit, better listen closely.  I have more money than God.  My family owns half of Manhattan and Long Island.  Lawyers are cheap, and will do anything for a dollar.  I want you out of my boy’s life now, or I will ruin you.”  The rage is pouring off Lucifer in waves.

“No.”  The statement needs no other explanation but he adds, “I’m not the one behind bars.  You can’t fucking piss without permission.  How are you going to do jack?”

“Stacks of cash can buy many, many things, including photos of a semi-famous reality TV hunter sucking on a Twizzler with another man.  Revolting, really, how some people behave in a public park.”  A chilling quiver runs over Dean’s skin.  He knew that bastard had eyes on them.  “If the network learns that the eldest Winchester prefers cock, you will be out of work.  In fact, most the good old boys I know aren’t going to pay thousands for a fairy to show them how to shoot.”

“Do it, see if I care.”  Dean speaks so boldly he almost believes himself.

Lucifer shrugs nonchalantly, “Easily arranged, I promise you.”  The monster wipes his hands, tiring of Dean’s bravado.  “Did you know that my sweet boy’s hole was so badly damaged, he may never enjoy sex again?  I have a feeling that causing him to scream in pain is not your type of fun.”

The hunter is done with this asshole.  He wants to get under Dean’s skin.  Well the tables can be quickly turned.  “No I’d rather hear him call my name, lost in pleasure.  There are other ways for us to fuck.”  Where in the hell is this coming from? Still, Dean plows on, hoping to appear self-assured.  “I wonder if he will ever go back to you once he’s had my ass.  The second Castiel discovers the sensation of being inside me and forcing whimpers from my own throat, I doubt you will ever cross his mind again.”

His opponent tries to hide his irritation but it’s a piss poor job.  “You’re not a weak, submissive bottom; don’t even try to fake it.”

“See, that’s where you are mistaken.  I would for Cas because I’m man enough to let him have the control.  Are you?” 

The man’s blue eyes are ice cold, like the winter water in Alaska, stunning but lethal, “I’m going to kill you.”  The words are so soft; even he can barely make them out.  “I will stab you in the gut so I can watch you die slowly.  Perhaps use your blood as finger paint.”

Dean Winchester giggles in the presence of the devil teasing the beast.  “What a pathetic excuse for a threat.  Maybe if you were in Sing Sing instead of club fed, you would learn how to intimidate a person.”  The hunter glares at Lucifer, “You will never touch Castiel again.”

As he exits the visiting room, he glimpses over his shoulder in shock as Lucifer flips the table and it takes three guards to subdue him.  The last sound the hunter hears are the rage filled roars of the monster.  “I will never be ignored!”

A faint smile curls at the corner of his lips, mission accomplished.  Now when that evil, sadistic bastard sleeps at night, he will dream of killing Dean not raping Cas.  That makes the hunter very happy.


	11. Fumbling Toward Ecstasy by Sarah McLachlan

 

Dean barely makes it out of the prison his knees are trembling so violently.  The adrenaline thumping through his veins fizzled out the second he left Lucifer’s sight.  His lungs are battling with his mind to expand.  Jesus, what the hell did he just do?  Is he suicidal or just stupid because he literally just dangled himself in front of a sadistic psycho and what, smiled?  Fucking giggled?  The hunter is about to yak in the parking lot when his gaze falls on a tall, tattooed guy leaning against his baby.  The concern on his friends face is genuine, encouraging Dean to keep the bile in his stomach.

Gadreel opens his arms as Dean stumbles into his embrace.  He has to be strong for Cas when he returns to the apartment, but here, he lets himself cry.  Not quiet, soft tears, but wailing with rage at the man who tore his angel to shreds.  There is only so much the hunter can fix, and as a result, he must accept that one day the monster will be released to hunt a Winchester.

After the sobs recede, his friend pulls him in tighter, “Can you drive?”

“No.”  He shoves the word out through his dry, scratchy throat while handing the keys to his darling baby over.

For a while, Dean closes his eyes, listening to the engine of the Impala rumble.  Inside the car is silent, Gadreel making no attempt at conversation.  He’s appreciative of his friend, but eventually Dean speaks, “Why?  How did you get up here?”

“The why should be obvious, I have this annoying little brother who spent the last two days convincing me to be there when you left the prison.”  The driver’s eyes never leave the road.  “The how is a client who needs a color touch up and doesn’t mind bartering.”

“Have you ever met him?”

Gadreel nods a sorrowful sigh escaping his mouth.  “Not after all the shit went down, but before, yes.  He was Castiel’s boyfriend.  We met on several occasions.  Fuck, he even spent a Christmas with our family.  That asshole seemed so nice.  Nick treated my brother like a king.  He played us all with his polite words and warm smiles until it was too late.”  His friend’s fingers flex around the steering wheel, almost bending the leather to his will.  “I assume you put the devil’s focus on you?”

“Yes, but you knew from the start that I would eventually.”

The two men watch the black pavement for several minutes.

“I’m sorry.”  For the first time, Gadreel’s eyes meet Dean’s.  There is honest remorse in his expression.  “I could lie and say that wasn’t a hope of mine.  Castiel may get better, but not if Lucifer touches him again.”  The tattooed man’s voice cracks on the last part. 

“That will not happen.”  His tone is confident because that is an absolute fact.  “Remember, I teach a seminar at NYU on hand to hand combat every fall for the freshman girls.”

“Don’t get to cocky there, Dean.  He could just hire someone to shoot you from a distance.”

A Cheshire grin filters over his face, “No worries my friend.  I’ve got it covered.”  He scratches at the scruff on his chin.  “But if I do end up dead, make sure to disappear with Cas.  Got it?”

“With what?  We are all strapped for cash!”

Dean turns to face the driver, “Have I ever told you about my Dad’s aversion to banks and his love of coffee from old tin cans?”

An hour later, he opens the front door to the office to find Cas and Meg waiting to pounce.  Meg has a fluffy white blanket, and his angel holds a cup of hot chocolate.

Before he can say anything, Cas interjects, “Did you get a big hug from Gadreel?”

“Yes.”  He could fib yet Castiel’s face is stern, so Dean obeys.

Suddenly Meg is snatching his elbow, dragging Dean to the master bedroom.  The TV is paused on the opening credits of his favorite episode of Dr. Sexy MD, and yes, he knows the show that well.  The petite woman shoves him onto the bed, ripping his shoes from his feet along with his socks.  “Lay back, Winchester.”

Vaguely stunned by her actions, he complies too the request.  There are multiple pillows stacked high allowing him to lean back comfortably but still be sitting up.  Meg tosses the blanket over Dean, tucking him in tightly.  His arms are left free to roam until Castiel rests on the other side of the quilt hill, handing him the mug of chocolate goodness.  Dean snidely remarks, “Is this Lucifer aftercare?”

“Yes and you will let us coddle you, understand?”  The hunter bounces his head, taking a swig of his drink.  “Meg, if you would please?”

“I’m on it.”  She responds, kissing Dean on the forehead, whispering into his ear.  “Thank you, Dean.”  Then she disappears, shutting the door behind her.

“What was that, Cas?”

“The kiss is from me, consider her my physical surrogate.”  Dean’s eyes literally sky rocket out of their sockets.  “She can return if you need a hug, or maybe a snuggle?”

The hunter raises his hands with a ‘stop please’ gesture.  “No, I’m good.  Just hit play.”

****

Dean has been dreading this pre-production meeting for weeks.  His next trip is to the Blue Ridge Mountains in North Carolina.  Winchester Brothers will be hosting a seven-day camp for beginner hunters.  The adult campers will have seminars taught by Dean and Sam over basic level stuff; care and maintenance of rifles, tracking, shooting, and safety.  He really enjoys the teaching part, but the stupid cameras come along to film the entire week.  Last year, Sam endured a ‘showmance’ that shot up ratings, but did not end well.  Neither of them have any interest in repeating that mistake.  Two days ago, Charlie got a phone call that Naomi, the executive producer for the show, would be joining them for the meeting.  This is not good.  She usually does all her stuff over the phone from LA.  Having her personally attend puts everyone on red alert.

Charlie scheduled the meeting at 3:30pm on Thursday, hoping to avoid any interaction with their houseguests.  Cas has his therapy at 4pm so if he and Meg leave a little early and come back late, the biggest elephant in the room can be averted.

Dean releases a sigh of relief as the crew begins to trickle out a little after five.  He is smiling brighter as he wishes everyone safe travels, and can’t wait to see them in Raleigh on Saturday.  Naomi spent the meeting quietly at the head of the table, only answering a few questions about possible ideas for side story lines.  She surprised no one by stating the networks interest in another budding romance to film.  This year’s participants will be 70% women, giving the Winchesters ample choices.  Nobody said a word, although Sam and Charlie’s eyes darted everywhere but at Dean.  Smooth guys.  Maybe your next careers should be with the CIA.

Yet, when Dean turns back, he notices that Naomi is standing behind him carrying her laptop and a small brief case.  “Dean, may we speak in private?”

“Sure.”  He gulps down his nerves as he beckons her to the office he and Sam share.  He walks in first, choosing to sit on his couch, as Naomi closes the door and picks Sam’s desk chair.  “What can I do for you, Naomi?”

“I would like you to sign a contract promising that you will make any and all attempts to pursue romantic relationships next week.”  She retrieves a formal document from her leather case.

In the three years they have been doing these camps, this is the first time they have ever forced a written agreement.  The network, and especially Naomi, always pushed verbally, but this feels off.  “I don’t think I’m comfortable with that, so no.”

“I’m very sorry to hear that, Dean.”  She places the paperwork to the side as she boots up her computer.  “You know it’s after this camp that we decide on whether to buy another season.  There are rumors milling about that need to be squashed before we can determine the future of Winchester Brothers.”

“Rumors?”  The word catches in his throat.  Lucifer promised he would take down Dean anyway possible.  Fucking up his career would be very easy to do, especially when the so-called rumors were probably 100% true.

Naomi folds her hands into a little steeple, resting the fingers on her chin.  “We could do a proper dance, or you can admit that you are currently in a homosexual relationship with a stripper.”

“What?”  He stutters giving the word four syllables.  “I really don’t think that’s any of your business.”

“Dean, three quarters of your viewers are female.  The remaining quarter is comprised of actual male hunters.  Neither of those groups would continue watching if they were made aware of your bedroom activities.”

“So I will keep it in the bedroom, and the cameras can stay out.”  What the hell?  This woman is out of line.  “The show is called “Winchester Hunters,” not “Winchester Romances.’’”

Naomi clears her throat, pivoting her laptop so Dean can view the screen.  That’s when the room gets warmer, and the hunter is finding it more difficult to breathe.  He is staring at several photographs of him and Cas from the park.  They do an excellent job revealing their new Twizzler game.  “Where did you get that?”

“It was e-mailed to my private account from an anonymous sender, along with information on a dancer named Castiel Novak.  Are you denying a relationship with this man?”

“No.”  Oh my God, the world is going to find out.  The photos exist.  Dean’s head spins as a double knot forms in his belly.  Naomi needs to leave. Now. He can’t do this.  “I’m sorry Naomi, but we will need to re-schedule, I’m not feeling well.”

She doesn’t move a muscle, even after Dean makes two failed attempt at rising from the couch.  “You have two options here, Mr. Winchester.  Sign the contract and find a pretty girl to fuck, or watch your career go up in flames.”  Dean has felt more warmth from a popsicle then the woman before him.

“I need time to think about this.”  He finally crosses to the door, cracking it open when Naomi tilts back in her chair, opening her arms. 

“You will make your decision before I leave this office.  My flight back to LA isn’t until tomorrow, I have all night.  Sit your ass down, or come here and sign.”  She slaps her pen down on the document.  “Are you really going to choose a mentally ill skank over your father’s company?  Because once this gets out, everything will fall apart.  Don’t be stupid Dean.”

Every inch of skin on the hunter’s body goes cold.  He begins shaking and wheezing, unable to inhale.  “I…  can’t…”  The image of that bitch perching behind his brother’s desk goes fuzzy as he trips over his own feet, staggering blindly.  He whispers, “I pick Cas.” 

The words are soft, but Dean is damn sure she hears him.  Naomi’s eyes go wide as her hands ball into fists.  “That answer is unacceptable.”  A frightening calm flows over her face.  “I have other pictures that could be accidentally uploaded to TMZ.”

He is leaning heavily onto the wall, barely holding onto consciousness.  “Of me and Cas?”

“No, of your brother and his whore.  How many lives do you want to ruin today, Dean?”  Naomi laughs at the look of confusion he gives her.  Sam is dating?  “Now, what’s the correct answer?”

Without warning, Sam charges into the room answering for him.  “He chooses Castiel.  He told you once; don’t make me throw you out.”

“Sam, you and I will have our own discussion about your wh…”

His brother is looming over her, using his size to add emphasis.  “Do NOT finish that sentence.”  Sam is furious, his nostrils flaring out wildly.  “We will do the camp next week because it is our last contracted event for TLC, but after that, we are done.  You are no longer welcome in this office.”  The giant man steps back, pointing to the door.  “Get out!” he roars.

After the door hits the bitch in the proverbial ass, Sam returns.  “Dean, are you okay??”

“I want Cas.  I want Cas.  I want Cas.”  Dean’s mumbling nonstop into the wall as it holds him upright.  If he says it enough, maybe people will listen that in the end, Dean Winchester will always pick his angel.  The hunter has lost all track of time he simply keeps repeating the mantra sometimes yelling it others just whispers but he never halts.  “I want Cas.  I want Cas.  I want Cas.”

Dean startles as massive hands are heaving pills down his throat.  Sam’s plea drifts over his cluttered mind, “Please, Dean, swallow.  These will help you rest.” 

It takes nearly fifteen minutes for the medicine to sweep him under.  Each second that passes, a new wave of tranquility battles the anxiety.  He never pauses in his repetitive prayer; the words just become slurred.  With his last sliver of consciousness, a deep sultry voice replies, “I am here.”  Then utter darkness.

****

The hunter bats his eyelids several times, trying to find some semblance of clarity.  He then rubs his face deeply with the palms of his hands.  What the hell did Sam give him?  They keep some pretty high dosage sleeping pills for when Dean has to fly, but holy shit.  That was some serious knock out time.

It is in this moment that Dean comprehends his lack of clothing.  He is in a pair of boxer briefs, and nothing else.  Also, the faint breathing of a person on either side of him is disturbing.  Dean glances at the glowing green alarm clock, which reads 4:08am.  The figure nearest to the clock is a tiny little brunette.  Okay, that’s Meg.  Why is she in bed with him and Cas?  Wait!  A loud booming snore fills the room.  Castiel has soft, baby purring snores, like a kitten.  Not Cas.  He flips over and is face to face with the bare chest belonging to his brother.

He nearly falls out of bed he jack knifes up so quickly, “What the FUCK?”

“Dean, go back to sleep.”  Sam sounds neutral, like this is a regular occurrence.

The older Winchester strikes his brothers thigh harshly.  “What the FUCK man?”

“Ouch!”  Sam finally rises with a grunt.  “Dean, you were a mess last night.  Castiel was worried about you waking up alone.”

“So why is she here?!?!”

Meg grumbles from her resting spot, “Because it’s my bed, asshole.  Now shut up and go back to sleep.”

“Where is Cas?”  More importantly, why is Cas not in bed with him.

The two other occupants of the room shriek in unison, “Couch!”

Dean stomps out of the room in a huff, snatching a sleeping bag from the floor.  No way on God’s green earth should his angel ever be relegated to the crappy-ass office couch alone.  When Dean opens the door, he immediately smells Castiel, and his body relaxes into the scent.  The kind man is lost to his dreams, the noise of kitten snores touching his ears.  This is home to Dean.  He doesn’t know what it means yet, but he will always choose Cas.  The hunter flops down on the hardwoods, curling up in the warm bedding.  He never needed those damn pills to find peace, just his angel.

“Dean, why are you on the floor?”

The sun is up, spilling late morning light through the blinds of the small window.  “If you don’t sleep in a bed, then I don’t.”

“That’s silly.”  Cas sulks through a budding grin.  “You had a rough night and needed to be comforted.  I couldn’t do it so…”

“Stop.”  Dean sits up glaring into the breathtaking blue eyes of his angel.  “Say what you want, but I enjoy just being near you.  Don’t ever think that you aren’t enough for me.”

Castiel rolls his eyes, “Jesus, you are such a sap.”  His angel scoots over, patting the cushion next to him, which the hunter blissfully fills.  “I hear you will soon be unemployed.  What happens now?”

“I have around $175,000 in savings.  We can easily live off that for a while, and that doesn’t count the money from Crowley’s tour.  He tips extremely well.  Sam and I will sell the office apartment, and Meg can move into my second bedroom.  We should be fine.”

The other man tilts his head to the side with a curious look in his sapphire eyes, “That’s a lot of ‘we’ statements.  Not to mention if Meg gets the spare room, where will I sleep?”

The hunter dead pans his face, “Now who’s being silly? You have a permanent spot in my room.”

“Permanent?”  Cas cocks his eyebrow, and holy hell that is the hottest thing on the planet.  Dean just wants to slide to his knees and submit right there. 

“Fuck, Cas.”  He needs a deep breath before continuing, “Do you want to see other people?”

“No.  I am devoted to one man.”

“Well, you will have to introduce us so I can kick his ass.”  The two men giggle like school girls.  “Same here, it’s only you.”

Castiel chews on his lower lip, causing Dean to lose focus.  “So that would make us…”

“Yes but…”  Dean becomes fascinated with a thread in the couch cushion.  “I’m not ready to say the word.  Okay?”  There is safety with Cas.  This gorgeous, raven-haired dancer keeps his anxiety at bay, but he can only push himself so far.

“I understand.  We take our baby steps together, and eventually we will get there.”

 


	12. All of Me by John Legend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to What_about_the_fish for suggesting the song for this chapter. XOXOXO

 

Dean pours his first cup of coffee as Charlie strolls through the front door.  “You’re here early.”  It’s not even nine, which for their office is like pre-dawn.

“Did you forget that we have Crowley at 11:00?”  He hangs his head, sliding over so the redhead can reach the coffee maker.

“Blocked it out I suppose.”  In 10 days, they will be leaving for Africa.  Dean is excited for the journey, but all the last minute details can be a huge pain in the ass.  Most clients would let Charlie handle all the meetings, and Dean just would happen to appear at the trip location ready to hunt.  Crowley was not one of those people.  “Who’s going to be there?”

Charlie takes a sip before replying, “The usual suspects, plus Castiel and Meg.”

“What?  Why?”  He objects so quickly he spills coffee on his favorite AC/DC shirt.

“He wants to inspect the merchandise.”  She timidly whispers.  “His words, not mine” her free hand flying up defensively.

“I know.”  Dean sighs, stretching his shoulders to relieve the building tension.  Half of him is thrilled that Cas is coming, but the other half is miserable over it.  At the club, Dante is on a proper stage with a clear separation between his angel and the audience.  This will not be the case on the tour.  The group will be staying in small, luxury lodges and ranches so the performances will be done in very close quarters.  Charlie has requested poles to be constructed at the lodges, but the private homes will be even worse.  Meg and Cas will be dancing on dining room tables, or just the ground itself.  Dean’s not sure he can survive Crowley and his gang having such intimate proximity to what’s his.

Charlie breaks Dean’s train of thought, “Sam will be here at 10:00 for our ‘fuck the fall’ discussion.”

“Great.”  The sarcasm is brimming in that one word.  Spring and summer are when Winchester Hunters typically do specialty hunting tours and camps for the TV show.  Fall and early winter is the real hunting season.  The overall fate of the company rests on the revenue from those tours.  Generally, they are booked every week from August to December, barely getting a day off in between trips.  This year, it seems that is not the case.  Charlie ordinarily spends May finalizing the fall schedule and signing contracts with clients; however, the phones have been quiet, and e-mail after e-mail finds more cancellations.  Hence, the company’s new mantra, ‘fuck the fall’.  “Are we sure it’s not Naomi screwing us over?”

“I have checked all her e-mail accounts, laptop, and home computer.  Other than the original sent to her,  she hasn’t made a copy, or forwarded the images to anyone.”  Charlie’s ability to hack has always been a highlight of her employment.  “Your electronic ‘coming out party’ wasn’t her.”

“How do the fall bookings look so far?”  Maybe it’s not as dreadful as Dean assumes.

“If we go by last year’s numbers we are at maybe 30%, and only half have signed contracts.  I don’t want to be a Debbie downer, but the future looks bleak, my friend.”

“I’m sorry Charlie.  It seems we will be leaving you alone to bail water on a sinking ship.”  He pats the redheads shoulder, squeezing affectionately. 

Her bright green eyes gaze at Dean.  “There is nothing to apologize for, Dean.  I’m pleased that you finally peeked out of the closet.”  They have both moved to the conference table as Charlie sets out files for both morning meetings.  “Some of the ignorant, hateful comments in those e-mails are enough for me to not want their money anyway.”

“What comments?”

Charlie eyes go wide realizing her mistake too late.  She worries on her lower lip, grinning.  “Nothing to make a fuss over.  So how’s Cas?”

“No distracting me with Cas.  You answer the question.”

“Dean, it’s just homophobic dicks without any common sense.”  He glares at her with a stern look.  “Okay, a lot of the cancellations are just a plain and simple, no thank you, but every once in a while, the client needs to explain their reasons in detail.  The top runner for asshole of the year was the one who felt that you might hit on him during the hunt, and he would be forced to shoot you.”

The hunter exhales deeply.  God people can be so horrible.  “Have they seen Cas?”

“Clearly not.”  She exclaims through a giggle.  He joins her letting the laughter hide the pain.

****

The pre-departure meeting with Crowley starts on time, with the smarmy bastard walking through the door exactly at 11am.  “Well hello Darlings!” 

“I’m not your darling, idjit!”  Bobby spits as he pats MacLeod on the shoulder.  Bobby Singer was their father’s right hand man for years.  He retired once the TV show started, citing that he’s not pretty enough for the cameras, although he drags his ass out of New Jersey every June to join Crowley’s hunt.  The money is amazing, and the old coot loves the nondisclosure agreement.  Singer’s language skills are invaluable when traveling through the foreign country. 

The little Scottish person puts down a laptop, smacking his lips.  “First things first, where are my dancers?”

Meg and Castiel raise their hands, smiling.  They are situated at the opposite end of the table, bookended by a Winchester on either side.  Cas waves, “Nice to meet you, Mr. Crowley.”

“Fuck me, this one has manners.”  Crowley twirls his wrist dramatically, “Now stand up and spin.  I want to see the goods, children.”

Dean grinds his teeth.  He wants to tell the bastard to shove his command where the sun doesn’t shine, but he can’t.  The hunter’s hands are tied.  Cas will make 20 grand, plus tip, and Dean will make double that.  If Winchester Hunters is circling the drain, they need every dollar.  Meg and Castiel stand, raise their arms, and pivot slowly.  “Okay Crowley, you’ve had your fun, let’s move on.”

“Hush now, Dean.  Which one has the aversion to touching?”  Cas once again lifts his hand slightly.  “Alright, so princess, move over here.”  Meg’s face flat lines into a tight smirk.  Dean knows she is cursing in her head, but damn can she be professional when she needs to be.  The instance she gets less than a foot from him, Crowley reaches out and smacks her ass, hard.  Even Dean’s butt cheeks are stinging from the sound.  Meg yelps, trying to remain in control when a fucking feral growl comes from Sam’s end of the table.  “Calm down, Moose.  Can’t touch her once we leave, so thought I’d get my jollies now.”

The tiny dancer’s face glances at Sam with confusion while rubbing her violated ass cheek, “Moose?  Like with antlers and shit?”

“A few tours back we had naked dinners.  The nickname stuck because that giant is hung as low as he is tall.”  Crowley winks at the younger Winchester.  “Isn’t that right, Samantha?”

Meg returns to her seat, grumbling, “You have no idea.”

Charlie claps her hands trying to reign in their client.  Sam hasn’t spoken, but he’s shooting death glares at Crowley.  “Alright.  If we could get back to business, that would be awesome.  Now Crowley, you have something to show me.”

The jerk is still grinning as he types a few entries into his computer and swings it out for everyone to see.  “I received an intriguing e-mail from a fake IP address two days ago.  These photos were the first thing to pop up.”

“Son of a Bitch.”  Dean only has to glimpse the screen.  It’s as if these stupid pictures are haunting him.  He rubs the back of his neck vigorously.  “Is this a problem?”  The question is more for Bobby, than their client.  The rugged older man shakes his head with a soft smirk.  He exhales.

True to his nature, Crowley rolls his eyes.  “We are all very aware of my enjoyment of all genders.  So no, Deanna, I could fucking care less.  But can I assume that some of your other clients do not share my opinion.”

“This will in no way effect our ability to provide an excellent tour.”  Charlie’s voice rings with fake cheer, matching the bogus smile.

He turns to their office manager, “Shh, love, the adults are talking.”  The shorter man’s gaze falls back to the brothers.  “Dean, Sam, how are things really?”

Bobby doesn’t speak, but his look says everything; spill.

Sam sighs, “Why do you care, Crowley?”

“Because this shit gets on my nerves!”  Crowley slams his fist onto the table.  “Dean could be the headliner for a full ride donkey show, and it still would not affect his ability to hunt.  I will never understand such blatant bigotry.”  Fergus’s face is bright red as he pants with anger.  After a few beats, he collects himself to calmly ask, “How bad is it?”

“Bad.”  Dean tries to avoid his favorite blue eyes, but fails.  He does not want Castiel to think this is his fault.  There is no one to blame.  “Winchester Hunters won’t make it to Christmas.”  Sam doesn’t deny Dean’s speculation of December.  Charlie begins crying, and the entire meeting goes to shit.

Later, Dean is in the kitchen making a sandwich when Bobby strides in, taking a seat at the table.  “Are you okay?”

He should have known that Bobby would not let this go.  “Things are just a huge pile of complicated.  My Dad…”

“Your Daddy was an ass.  This company was his baby, not yours.  Honestly, Dean, are you going to miss it?”

“No.”  He had been pondering his feelings over the fate of Winchester Hunters for a few days.  This was the first time he voiced his lack of interest in fighting for his father’s dream.  “Things are really a mess Bobby.  I keep thinking if Cas and I had been more discreet…”

“What?”  The older man rises to stand toe to toe with Dean.  “If you had continued to deny who you are for another year, would have changed the outcome?  I doubt it.”  Bobby envelopes Dean in a tight embrace, whispering into his ear, “I’m proud of you boy.  Damn proud.”

“Thanks Bobby.” 

****

Poke.

Dean rolls over trying to fall back asleep.

Poke.

“What the hell?”  His eyes crack open to slits.  The whiskey brown orbs of a tiny brunette glare at him, “Why are you poking me, Meg?”

“Wake up, for fucks sake.” Her tone is all business no sass.

Dean blinks the crust away from his eyelids, a perplexing squint in his expression.  His gaze falls to the other side of the blanket mountain.  “Where’s Cas?”

Meg rises to full stature, crossing her arms with annoyance.  “He’s waiting for you at the club?  Can we get going please?”

That gets Dean’s attention.  “He’s at the Devil’s Trap alone?  Meg what were you thinking!?”  The hunter dives off the bed, snatching his jeans from the floor, tossing them on along with his charcoal Henley from the day before.  A pair of clean socks smacks him in the head violently.  “Ow.”

“I’m not a complete moron Dean.  Sam is with him.”

Dean tugs on his boots, staring at her with total bewilderment.  He remembers to pee and brush his teeth before rushing out the front door with Meg.  “It’s 8am, why are we doing this now?”

“Castiel has a surprise for you.  A lack of other people around appears to be a key factor, hence the ungodly hour.”  She pushes the down button for the elevator.  Dean whimpers with memories of the last time the two men were alone on the Devil’s Trap stage.  Meg just shakes her head at the noise, “Jesus, I can’t wait until you guys fuck.”

“Ditto.”  He grunts under his breath.

They greet Sam at the front door of the club.  “Castiel is on stage.  Have fun.  We will lock up behind you.”

“The security guard?”  Dean has no interest in being interrupted.

“In the main office watching a movie.  He will not be leaving for at least 90 minutes.”

The elder Winchester pats his brother’s shoulder.  “Thanks man.”  Then he sprints down the long black hallway to his angel.

The theater is illuminated in deep blue hues, giving the entire arena an intimate, peaceful atmosphere.  A single folding chair sits center stage with its back to the audience.  Castiel rests a hand on the seat, beckoning Dean forward.  A quick scan and the hunter notices that there are no poles, no ribbons, no other furniture, just blue lights, and bare wood.  The space is completely stripped.

“Dean, please have a seat.”  The hunter obeys, drinking in the stunning skin of his angel.  The nude colored, mini spandex shorts give the illusion that Cas is naked.  He gawks at the black angel wings flowing down Castiel’s shoulders.  If only he could stroke the dark feathers, but it’s a fleeting desire.  Dean swallows dryly, suddenly wishing he had some water.  He quickly adjusts his crotch because everything seems to be getting tighter down there. 

“What is this, Cas?”  The chair is cold on his back, but the heat rising between the two men more than compensates. 

Castiel lowers his eyes almost, blushing, “You created a dance for me.  I wanted to return the favor.”  The dancer hands Dean the remote for the sound system.  “When I tell you, hit play.”

“Okay.”

The hunter tracks his prey’s movements as the younger man saunters over to the left.  Cas strikes a statuesque pose then, “Now, Dean.”

The sound of a strong piano beat surrounds them.  The music is soft in nature almost tranquil.

_What would I do without your smart mouth?_

Castiel winks at the opening line as Dean’s lips fall into a flirty smirk.  His dark angel elegantly moves across the floor, his arms and legs powerful, but gorgeous.  With long, lean gestures, his muscles are taught with focus.  It takes a few sweeps of the dancer’s body, floating as if on air, that jolts Dean’s attention to a significant difference.  This is not Dante disrobing with gyrating hips and sultry looks.  He is in the presence of a trained ballet dancer who reveals breathtaking grace in each step.  The green-eyed man gasps; this is Castiel, raw and real, for Dean.

_My head’s under water_

_But I’m breathing fine_

_You’re crazy and I’m out of my mind_

His gentle Castiel leaps with the exquisite control of an angel soaring to the heavens.  Cas swirls, holding himself tightly as though imagining Dean’s embrace.  The hunter’s arms ache with a desperate need to follow through with the dream of holding the man.  His fists tighten, swamped by all the unmet physical cravings.  It’s not until the third round of the chorus that the words pierce into Dean’s mind.

_‘Cause all of me, Loves all of you_

_Love your curves and all your edges_

_All your perfect imperfections_

Oh my God!!  This isn’t just another routine.  Castiel has designed his own love letter to Dean.  The hunter is astray in the magnificent, fluid motion of his love.  The one positive that remained after the Naomi incident was that Dean chose Cas, never wavering.  He told the world that day, and now his angel is shouting his reply.  A single tear slips from Dean’s eye because he only has two words to describe the moment, absolute perfection.

The song draws to a close as Castiel advances towards him with exquisite agility and grace.  Dean’s breath hitches in his throat as the angel stretches out his hand, reaching for the hunter.

_I give you all of me_

_And you give me all of you_

Everything stills in that instance.  Cas doesn’t halt his progress until the tips of his fingers ghost through, connecting with the wisps of Dean’s hair.  An electric shock quivers through his skin from just that simple touch.  Emerald green eyes lock onto Sapphire gems, the two men frozen in time, not wanting to lose the essence of the caress.  Dean glimpses the fear trembling in his angel’s eyes, but it’s not from panic.  Castiel appears worried; perhaps he pushed his hunter too far.  With a reassuring smile, Dean whispers, “My beautiful Cas, I give you all of me.”


	13. Wake Me Up by Avicii

 

Castiel lies in bed with excitement bleeding into his veins, keeping him awake.  This was his last night at The Devil’s Trap before the big Africa trip, he and Meg having given themselves two days for shopping and packing without the stress of work.  The dancer has never journeyed outside of the United States, so for him this is colossal.  His first attempt at international travel was thwarted by his ex-boyfriend, Nick.  Now he is blessed with a green-eyed hunter to make his dreams come true.

Dean had nodded off hours ago; the only noise is the peaceful breathing of his hunter.  It intrigues Cas how such a vibrant and loud man can be so gentle in his slumbering.  Listening to Dean’s inhales and exhales is one of the dancer’s all-time favorite, nightly past times.  They have been spending the night at Dean’s apartment, letting Meg have the office all to herself. 

He turns over to face his boyfriend, tracing his strong jaw line with his fingertips.  The dancer doesn’t make contact with skin, but the memory of that morning on the Devil’s Trap stage has stayed with him for days.  Castiel had been terrified of taking that step, but in the end, it was perfect.  Nick ripped away several pieces of the person he used to be, but not dancing.  The stage is still a place that Castiel can call his own.  In the moment that his feet take off, swaying over the wood planks, he is in his element.  That is where Castiel is strongest, unafraid, and a bit closer to the man he was before the tragedy.  Astray in his dance, he found the willpower to touch Dean and it was truly glorious. 

_‘You are safe.’_   This is the sentence that constantly streams through Castiel’s mind when Dean is near.  The hunter is intelligent, agile, and well trained, and he has proven over and over that no one bothers his angel.  Cas can feel his anxiety dissipate around his boyfriend.  He hasn’t been able to touch him since that special morning, but he does feel the urge to keep going.  In his dreams, Cas ravishes Dean until they drop to the sheets, sweaty and properly fucked.  Desire is always drumming underneath his skin, yearning for soft, golden skin, calloused fingers, pink plush lips, and a tongue that is just downright sinful.  God, he wants it all, NOW.  Then, of course, the panic sets in; stripping him of the courage to take what is his.

“Cas?  You still awake?”  Dean stirs, stretching his arms out wide.  “Dude, it’s like after three.”

Castiel sits up.  Why the hell deny it.  “Sorry, I can’t sleep.”

“What’s up?”  Both men face each other, the pile of quilts between them.  The only illumination trickles in from the city glow outside.

“Nervous energy, in two days we leave for this amazing journey.  How are you not pumped?”

Dean tilts his head in a very Cas like move, grinning, “Well, I’ve done this for a few years now, but I still get excited.  The night before, I won’t sleep a wink.”  His hunter scratches at the scruff on his chin.  “Is that all?”

“No, I was thinking about us.”  Cas curls his knees in, making a pillow for his head. 

“Like maybe…”  The hunter turns on a lamp by the bed.  They blink furiously with the sudden introduction of a bright light.  “…what comes next?”

“Pretty much, so what are your thoughts?”  He’s extremely curious about Dean’s opinion.  “We are together emotionally, but not physically.”

“Damn Cas, that’s pretty heavy for the middle of the night.”

“Dean, please.  Are you happy?”

The hunter’s face snaps up to meet Castiel’s.  “I am.  There’s nobody in the world for me but you.  The rest will fall into place eventually.”  Dean bites his thumb timidly.  “Are you happy?”

“Yes.  I feel pure bliss in your presence.”  The two men stare at each other for several minutes, both blushing profusely.  “Are you up to trying something new?”

“Hell yes.”  Dean claps his hands together loudly, waiting for Cas’s directions.

“Strip.”  Castiel stands on the bed, removing his boxers, leaving himself naked.

His boyfriend’s expression reads as complete shock.  “What are we doing?”

“It’s a surprise, but if you want to join me, nudity is a requirement.”  Then Cas suddenly acknowledges that perhaps Dean is uncomfortable with removing the last barrier between them.  “Unless it’s too much?”

“Fuck no.  Any reason to see your beautiful body is fine be me.”  Dean drops on his back, ripping the boxer briefs from his waist and tossing them to the floor.  “Alright angel, what’s next?”

The dancer takes a moment to drink in all the gorgeous skin of Dean.  The green-eyed man’s delectable cock leaves no question that Cas is, in fact, gay.  He lowers his voice to a raspy, gravelly sound, “You tell me what you want to touch, and I do it.”  Castiel knows the tone is right when Dean shivers, his luscious member bouncing with interest. 

“Oh, like dirty Simon Says,” the hunter’s eyebrows waggling with a smirk.

God, Cas snickers at the reference, but it’s not a bad idea.  He rakes his tongue over his teeth, “Perfect, but use ‘Mr. Winchester Says’.”  He adds a dramatic wink.

“Jesus, Cas, you are going to kill me.”  Dean bites down on his lip, clearing his throat, “Mr. Winchester says drag your fingers up and down your stomach.”

Castiel complies as the caress gives him goose bumps in the wake of his digits.  He finds his own dick filling with the sensation.  “Next.”

“Mr. Winchester says suck your fingers.”  The hunter emulates his actions, groaning.  “Now use those wet babies to tickle your nipples.

Cas shakes his head no.  If they are going to play, then he will make Dean work for it.  “You forgot something in the request, Dean.”  Cas slurps out the words, keeping the two digits deep in his throat.

“Fuck!  Mr. Winchester says tease your nipples.”  The awareness of having his hunter’s eyes devouring his every move is intoxicating.  Cas taps his nipples, letting the saliva from his mouth dribble down his torso.  He startles when Dean snatches their fabric barricade, chucking the stack to the hardwood floor.  “Cas, I have to SEE everything!” 

The hunter’s breath is ragged, and Castiel is panting as well.  Being a very naughty boy, Cas decides to roll his hips up into the air in time with the ministrations of his fingers.  Dean apparently enjoys it because his next command is through a rough, broken voice, “Mr. Winchester says keep doing that with your pelvis, and touch yourself Cas.  I want to see you cum.”

Castiel’s voice has left the building; he is so wrecked at this point.  He jerks his head in agreement, praying that he can hold on long enough to provide Dean with a good show.  He licks his palm first, getting a growl from his bedmate, then Cas lowers his hand to his crotch.  Thank the heavens he’s coordinated enough to keep his hips gyrating.  Instead of stroking his cock, Castiel chooses to make a hole with his fist, using the upward movement of his crotch to thrust into his own embrace.  Crafting half-lidded eyes with a lust-filled expression, the dancer moans deep from his chest. 

He should be scared.  He should feel the tightening of his lungs.  He should be screaming for Meg to bring his meds before the darkness takes him, BUT, none of that is happening.  Castiel Novak is safe with his Mr. Winchester.  There is no question that this man will be the one to raise him from the memories of Lucifer’s clutches.

Dean’s eyes roam over Cas’s body with a devastatingly needy hunger.  The hunter is jacking his own dick in rhythm with the thrusts of Castiel’s hips.  The angel is close, and he won’t last but a few more seconds, but then he releases a wicked grin.  “Dean, I need...”

“Just let go, my angel.”  Dean grunts on the last word waiting to leap over the edge with Cas.

“You have to say it.”  Sparkling blue gems crash onto green orbs, creating an electric current that flows between them.

His hunter tilts over his face, mere inches from Cas’s crotch.  “Mr. Winchester says…”  Dean puts his moist lips together and blows.  “…cum.”

The decree, along with Dean’s breath touching the sensitive, enraged skin of his throbbing cock, hurls Castiel into a massive orgasm.  Tender whimpers fill the room as Cas rides it out. He is still trembling when the sound of his hunter reaching his own climax gives him another wave of pleasure.

Cas glances up, realizing that a few drops off his cum have landed on Dean’s chin.  The dancer giggles at the sight, and then goes immobile with shock as Dean licks it up with his own tongue.  “You taste good, Cas.”

His eyes blow up wide.  Dean just… “Fuck me.”  He whispers through a strained tone.

“Not today.”  Dean gleams with pride at his witty comeback.

Angel and hunter collapse to the sheets, laughing together.  Once their breathing has somewhat returned to normal, Dean hops off the bed, seizing the discarded blankets.  “No, Dean, leave them there.”

“Cas, are you serious?”  His boyfriend’s face is brimming with hopeful eyes, but also concern.

“Dean.  You heard me.”  The hunter obeys, taking only one to clean up the mess of their interlaced semen.  “But we still sleep on our own sides.  Okay?”

“I gotcha Cas.  Baby steps.”

Ultimately, both men fall into a deep sleep, and well, if the next morning their fingers are virtually touching, Castiel doesn’t mind.  _He is safe._

****

 

“Okay Clarence, I think we are packed.”

Castiel reviews the list in his hand, and the multiple suitcases around them.  They may be strippers, but damn they have a ton of luggage.  “Agreed.  When are we leaving for the airport?”

“The flight leaves JFK at 5:55pm.  I think the boys are picking us up at 2pm, so we have plenty of time to get there and check-in.  It appears traveling with rifles and shit takes a lot of paperwork.”

He nods his in agreement.  Dean had been bitching all week about all the TSA crap they would face, getting their personal rifles on the plane.  Of course, they would have to be checked for safety precautions, but that made it worse for Dean.  Castiel swallows his throat dry with nervous tension.   He didn’t mind flying.  Actually, the thought of everyone strapped to his or her own seats is comforting.  However, getting through security was going to be the rough part.  If he were called for a pat down, all sorts of shit would start. 

Meg notices his twitching fingers, “We have, like, thirty minutes to kill.  Let’s dance it out.”

“Yes, please.”  Nothing helps him calm down like jumping in the air senselessly to an awesome song.  “I’m thinking, ‘Wake Me Up’”.

“Fuck yeah!”  She plugs her iPod into the base of the Office’s bedroom, cranking it up to full, mind blowing, volume.  He knows she hits repeat, so the music can play until the stress drains from his body.

Castiel jerks his head to the beginning beat, allowing the bouncing to move down his shoulders, then hips.  By the time the strong rhythm takes off, the angel is jumping wildly around the room, letting the sound guide him.  Meg leaps onto the bed, springing so high she almost hits the ceiling fan.  The two friends are so astray in their movements; they miss the brothers entering the room.

“We have neighbors you know?”  Dean yells over the music.

Meg flicks him off, smirking as she screams back, “Who the fuck cares?  Aren’t you selling this place soon?”

“She has a point.”  Sam shrugs his shoulders before joining Meg and Cas.

Castiel swaggers over to his hunter, still jumping in time with the beat.  “Come on handsome, it’s fun.”

His boyfriend shakes his head violently.  “Dean Winchester does not bop around like a school girl at a slumber party.”

“You are such a party pooper.”  Sam taunts while raising his hands, chuckling when his fingers graze the ceiling.

The dancer steps forward, lowering his voice so only Dean can hear it.  “Mr. Novak says shut-up and join me.”  The hunter’s cheeks turn pink as he hops, following Cas’s order.

It doesn’t take long for all four of them to lose all inhibitions in the beat, bouncing around the room with giggles and smiles.  Castiel beams with affection for his little tribe.  With so much raining down on the group between the final days of Winchester Hunters, and Nick being released soon, they should all be sobbing into copious amounts of alcohol.  Yet instead, Dean, Cas, Meg, and Sam are growing stronger together, which helps to shove the darkness away.

****

“Well you two are quite the fucking pair.”

Castiel glares at Crowley, “Shut up and go sit down.”  The little traveling troupe was congregating in the Delta first class lounge, waiting for their flight.  The dancer scans the area, ticking off the crew which consists of him, Dean, Sam, Meg, Crowley, Bobby and four companions of Fergus. 

The first was actually a friend of Dean’s that the Scottish man hired to be security for the trip.  His name is Benny Lafitte, a big burly guy with a heavy, dark beard, and a deep Louisiana accent.  Dean had introduced them last month when Benny came by the office to finalize his paperwork.  To the right of Benny was an older gentleman with long, silver hair, and a kind voice, Cain Mullen, who spoke often about his wife Collette.  To the left of Benny sat a woman with dark auburn hair, and blood red nails.  She kept staring at Meg, which made Cas’s skin crawl.  Her name is Josie Sands, but everyone seems to call her Abaddon for some reason.  Finally, the last of the Crowley camp was a tall, dark haired man with huge, white teeth.  Dick Roman was his name, with shifty eyes and an odd enjoyment of lewd comments. 

Crowley still hadn’t moved from his spot directly in front of them.  Unfortunately, Dean was high as a kite, having taken the first dosage of his sleeping pills.  Sam had an entire system mapped out to help alleviate Dean’s fear of flying.  First, while they were waiting in the lounge, he gave the older Winchester half a pill to calm his nerves.  The effect was his boyfriend goofy and high, mumbling incoherently.  Then once on the plane, Sam gives him an entire pill, which knocks his ass out for 8 hours, easy.  This is perfect because the flight to Amsterdam is seven and a half hours, then a three-hour layover before the final leg, which is just under eleven hours to Johannesburg, South Africa. 

“Is there something else you need?”  Castiel is trying to be nice, but his double dose of Xanax that got him through security fairly easily is wearing off, making the dancer grumpy.

Fergus just curtly jerks his head, “A scotch, but I’ve got it angel.”  The man heads over to the bar as Cas curses his use of Dean’s nickname.

It’s only then that Castiel notices, Dean’s grumbles are about him.  He tilts closer, listening.  Dean glances up, catching his gaze, exclaiming quietly, “Have I ever told you about my angel Cas?”

The dancer chuckles, because clearly Dean is out of it.  “No.  Why don’t you tell me about the man?”

“He has gorgeous blue eyes that make me forget about the rest of the world.”

Cas lifts his hand, almost patting Dean’s in return.  He halts, seconds from actually making contact, his breath hitching in his throat.  “Anything else?”

“I’m hungry Cas.” 

The words are slurred, but he gets the meaning, snatching a bag of chips, “Here ya go.”

“No.”  Dean throws the bag on the floor, stomping like a toddler, “Feed me Cas.”

Castiel rolls his eyes, “I’m trying, Dean, but you tossed your snack down.”  Dean slams his fist on the arm of his chair.

“Feed...Me…Cas.  His cock is so beautiful.  I want to go down on that hard salami like a hoover.”

The angel finds himself choking on his own spit.  Once he has regained his composure, he responds, “That’s very descriptive, Dean.  Maybe sharing time should be over for today.”  Cas is positive his cheeks are bright red, and not from embarrassment.

Dean’s eyes glaze over as he licks his plush pink lips.  “I’m broken; nobody wants to play with a cracked toy.”

His boyfriend states it so innocently that Castiel almost doesn’t register the sadness in his eyes.  He puts his mouth dangerously close to Dean’s ear, “We can be broken together.”

Dean pivots his face so they are nose to nose.  A slim piece of paper might not even pass between them.  “I don’t want to be broken.”  Green eyes find a moment of clarity as Dean exhales, “Let’s be healthy together instead?”

“Sure Dean, that’s a great plan.”  The kind hunter bounces his head, happily agreeing to the brilliant idea.

A wicked smirk builds on the hunter’s lips, “Mr. Winchester says no more broken Dean and Cas.”

A faint smile streams over Cas’s mouth.  “Yes, sir.”

“See, if we both get better, then you can fuck me into the mattress, just like in my dreams.”

“OH!”  Jesus Fucking Christ of all the ways this conversation could go that was… unexpected. 

Castiel is about to reply when a female announces, “Delta flight 0918 to Amsterdam is now boarding for our first class passengers.”

The dancer wants to keep chatting with his brutally honest Dean, but Sam is jerking his brother to his feet, pushing him towards the plane.  Cas grabs their bags, following close behind, with Meg in tow.  He and Dean have seats A and B row 3, with Meg and Sam directly behind them.  He takes the window seat, letting Sam drop a very non-lucid Dean in the aisle seat.  The younger Winchester tugs a bottle of water from his backpack, feeding the last pill to his hunter.  He releases a little whine of frustration because it takes two minutes, tops, until Dean is drooling, sound asleep next to him.  Damn it!  No more drugged Winchester confessions.

While they wait for the rear of the plane to fill, Cas gets his earphones out and discovers the in-flight movie system.  He glimpses over to Dean as the flight attendant reviews the safety information for their Boeing 777-300R.  His hunter is silent in his rest, just a dribble of saliva spilling down his adorable chin.  Without thinking about it, Cas swipes his finger over Dean’s face, cleaning the slobber.  Not a single alarm goes off in his mind, until he’s wiping the moisture on his jeans.  Every muscle in his body goes still, waiting for his anxiety to take over, but nothing happens.  His breathing remains calm, his thoughts clear, and his body doesn’t even tremble.  In fact, the only sensation is the swelling of his heart as the love he has for this man tumbles over his soul.

Quickly, Castiel scans the cabin to assure that no one is watching, then he slopes his face forward, kissing Dean’s cheek.  Surprisingly, there is no tension, no fear, just love.  He whispers to himself, “The world sees damaged.  I see two souls who were waiting for perfection.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trivia Question for all my lovely readers. What is the significance of the flight number?


	14. Talking Body by Tove Lo

 

Castiel has to pee, desperately.  He’s been lying face down on his pillow for God knows how long, hoping the eternal screams of his bladder will shut up.  The silk sheets on the hotel bed are so damn comfy, and the air conditioner is on high, keeping his skin cool.  He peeks out his left eye slightly, glancing at the empty spot next to him.  There is a note on the pillow, but that requires movement.  “Fuck.”  The angel mumbles as he rouses himself up to sitting.  He snatches the paper, scanning the handwritten words as he hobbles to the toilet.

_Morning Cas,_

_I will be in and out all day prepping for our departure tomorrow.  Hopefully I will be able to meet you for lunch around noon.  The ballroom has been booked for tonight’s dinner at 8pm, and the stage set to your specifications.  Benny checked the safety of the poles, twice.  Leave a note in the room so I can find you._

_Your Dean_

He grins at his hunter’s overprotective nature.  The clock on the nightstand reads 10:06am.  Cas isn’t even sure when he went to bed last night.  Their flight arrived in Johannesburg around 9:30pm, but then there was customs, a bumpy van ride, and finally, snoozing in the extravagant Four Seasons Hotel lobby until Dean had the key to their room.  The entire evening was one big blur.  He and Dean didn’t even talk; they simply stripped down to their underwear and crashed on opposite sides of the king size bed.

“I need to eat,” his voice raspy from fighting jetlag.  The suite is gorgeous, supple deep blue carpeting that matches the differing shades of blue spanning the entire room.  The décor is very regal.  Not to mention, the bathroom alone is bigger than his South Bronx apartment.  Four grown men could fit in the marble bathtub, easily.

He recalls Dean saying that the pool has a bar, which serves food.  Excellent, he can catch some rays and snack until his hunter appears.  Ten minutes later, Castiel is strolling out into the African sun wearing a long pair of blue swim trunks, a white tank top, and a khaki backpack on his shoulder with a change of clothes for lunch.  The angel selects a lounge chair near the sparkling clear water, scooting it away from any other furniture.

Cas is dozing in the sunshine, having devoured a large array of fruit and sipped two glasses of water.  Suddenly, the screeching noise of a chair dragging across the cement tiles gives the angel a start.  His eyes fly open as the glare of super white teeth shine down on him.   “Hey there Castiel, mind if I join you?”

“Not at all.”  The dancer doesn’t want to be rude, but Dick Roman is not his first, second, third, or even last human on earth choice for a companion. 

“Great.  Don’t worry; I signed my contract so I am aware that there is no touching, unless consensual.”  He winks with a snicker, “Do I have your consent?”

“No.”  He makes sure the message is loud and extremely clear.

The other man raises his hands in a surrender motion.  “Alright, we can just sit and enjoy the amazing weather.”  Cas takes a sip of water, shutting his eyes.  “I did notice that you and Dean are close.”

“Yes we are.”  Jesus this idiot is so annoying.  “He’s my boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?  Really?  I would not have thought the eldest Winchester liked any dick but me.”  Cas squirms from the shitty innuendo, and the fact that he openly called Dean his boyfriend.  He’s not sure why he did, but his hunter will just deal with it.  “I haven’t seen your other partner today, the one with tits.”

Castiel doesn’t respond, just stretches his shoulders.  Honestly, he wishes she were here, but he has no idea which room is hers.  He just followed Dean last night, never giving his best friend a second glance.  Now the guilt is starting to eat at him, but before he could stand to go find her, Dick speaks, “How about you and I have a little discussion, and then you can share with her later.”

“Okay.”  The guy’s lighthearted demeanor drains quickly, to something icier.

“You ask that tiny whore how much to stay silent.”  _‘What the hell is happening?’_  Is the only coherent thought that runs through Castiel’s head.  “Crowley is my company’s biggest backer, and if he left over a… misunderstanding, it could ruin me.  Do I make myself clear?”

The dancer squints, tilting his head to the left.  “No, what are you talking about?”

“Listen, you bottom feeding piece of shit, Crowley may act like he’s all big and scary, but his wife has him wrapped around her well-manicured finger.  She is the one that insists that every contract include a consent clause.  If Mrs. MacLeod gets a whiff of what transpired between me and the devil’s slut, I could lose millions in funding.”  The smarmy bastard leans in closer to Cas, the dancer’s anxiety forming quickly as his chest tightens painfully.  “I just need a number.  There is no need for any ugliness.”

His fingers are clenching the arms of the lounge chair for dear life, praying this nightmare ends soon.  “I will pass along the message.”  Oh my fucking God, what was that?  Castiel is assuming that Roman is a past client of Meg’s, but why would Crowley give a damn?  The Scottish man obviously has no problem with paying for sex according to Dean. 

 “Good.”  The despicable human flashes him one last smile, then disappears into the hotel. 

The dancer is still trembling when Dean arrives, sitting in the same spot recently vacated by Dick.  “Hey Cas, ready for lunch?”

He bounces his head, trying to hide his shock.  Castiel needs to find Meg before he has any right to discuss this with his hunter.  “I accidentally told Dick Roman you were my boyfriend.  I’m so sorry, please don’t be mad.”

“Is that why you seem upset?”  Ah, perfect, an out for his off behavior.

“Yeah, it was so unprofessional of me, but I felt cornered.”  Totally true, he is in no way telling a lie.

Dean’s face sharpens.  His Winchester puffs his chest out in a protective manner.  The action is adorable.  “Well, I think that’s best.  Everyone should know that the entertainment you provide ends with looking.”  Cas craves to add ‘except you’, but alas, he just doesn’t have it in him today.  “I’ve got maybe an hour for lunch, so let’s get going.”  Dean carries Castiel’s backpack, guiding the dancer to the hotel restaurant.

****

His hunter dashes out after their meal to deal with a missing vehicle.  The hour was comfortable.  Dean told his favorite stories about Africa and Castiel asked questions about the different regions they would be visiting.  Neither of them spoke about Dean’s revelation at the JFK airport, but Cas was confident that the green-eyed man remembered.  Yet, his boyfriend has enough stress today, so Castiel will push the conversation to a later time.

Castiel is sauntering out of the restaurant when he spots Meg and Sam in the corner.  He wanders over, noting how intimate they seem.  “Hey guys.”  He exclaims as he plops down next to Meg.

“How are you today, Castiel?”  Sam’s smile is genuine and kind.

“Jetlag sucks, but I’m surviving.  Dean had to deal with an SUV issue.”  The younger Winchester glimpses up, nearly jumping from his seat.

“I should see if I need to help.  Later.”  The giant man pauses, as if he should do something before exiting hastily.

The dancer cocks his head, curious about Sam’s behavior.  “What’s up with him?”

Meg shrugs nonchalantly, “he’s a weird, tall dude.”

“So Dick Roman cornered me today and said to ask you for a number?”

His friend’s face cascades to sadness.  This was not good; most clients do not affect her in the slightest.  “Tell him fifty grand and he doesn’t come near either of us, ever.”  Meg’s gaze drops to her hands, which are twisting together harshly, “Just take care of it for me Clarence.”  It would appear that his friend is near tears, but she never cries, so the sight is like a fucking lunar eclipse.  “I gotta go.  See ya later.”

Castiel doesn’t even have time to respond she leaves so suddenly.  He also has no desire to speak with the asshole, so he strolls over to a house phone in the lobby.

“Four Seasons of Johannesburg, how may I direct your call?”

“Dick Roman’s room please.”  The angel is hoping with all his might that the jerk answers.  After two rings, his wish is granted.

“Roman here.”

“I spoke with Meg and I have her request.”  Dick knows immediately whom he is and what he’s talking about, there is no reason for pleasantries.

“I’m all ears.”

He takes a calming breath, “Fifty grand, transferred immediately, and you steer clear of me and Meg as much as possible.”

“I will transfer the money today, but on one condition.”

“And that would be?”

“Not a word to anyone, especially Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Giant, or you owe me double back.”

Damn it.  He has no desire to keep this from Dean, but it’s not his secret to share.  Evidently, Meg just wants it over so he relents, “Deal.”

“Excellent, I will have a contract at the front desk in one hour.  Once I have both your signatures, the money will be transferred to the account you supply on the document.”  With that, the line goes dead.  He now has an hour to kill, so he heads to the room for a shower.

Cas meets up with Meg around 3pm for rehearsals, the contract in hand.  He uses the bank account the Winchesters opened for Crowley’s payments.  Honestly, it’s the only option he has on hand, but it will work fine.  She signs the last page, not even bothering to read it.  “Meg there are some conditions about confidentiality.  You need to read it.”

“Castiel.  I’m not going to talk about it to anyone, and you aren’t either, so I don’t need to do shit but run the routine.”

He opens his hands, and then blows her a kiss.  “Whatever you need Meg, but one day, it might be good to tell me what happened.”

“Clarence, you are such a sweetheart.”

****

 

The stage is really just a platform about a foot off the ground.  There is one pole on either side.  The guests are eating at a long banquet table, so all the diners can face the stage.  The show will last one hour and starts after the salad course has been served.  Castiel and Meg are sitting behind a partition while the group gathers and has cocktails.  A waiter will prompt them when its time.

Meg is dressed in a white belly dancers costume.  The top is spandex, tied provocatively, revealing tons of cleavage.  Her waist is adorned with several thin, silver belts that jangle when her hips move.  Then the skirt is a wrap around, with several removable handkerchiefs.  The whole outfit is held together with Velcro.  Cas has a bare chest with black, soft cotton pants, Velcro running down the seams.  They both are going bare foot.

The idea for tonight is classical stripping with a personal twist.  On the safari, they will have to be more creative, but tonight they went with old faithful routines.  Meg is lounging on the floor, twisting her hair through her fingers.  “I called the bank.  The money was transferred.”

Castiel jerks his head in affirmation.  Their silence has been bought, but what bothers the dancer most is that he doesn’t even know what he’s keeping quiet.  It’s beyond frustrating.  He can’t imagine what could be so horrible that pansexual, open-minded Crowley would give a rat’s ass about it.   _She is the one that insists that every contract include a consent clause._ That specific sentence keeps rolling around in Cas’s thoughts.

Meg’s not wearing underwear, not really a job requirement.  Her legs are flopping about as they wait for the crew to finish their pre-dinner drinks.  That’s when Castiel notices the raised marks.  She uses a heavy foundation make-up to hide the damage so no one can see it.  The scar is on her inner thigh, tucked in the crevice of her groin.  A client bit her a little over six months ago.  The wound required eleven stitches and a transfusion because it was a bloody mess.  The guy didn’t just bite down; he ripped out a chunk of skin, and according to Meg, swallowed.  The injury healed fine, and the two friends never talk about it, but it makes Cas wonder.  He’s on the verge of asking when a waiter steps behind the partition.  The young guy starts to say something, but then gets an eyeful of what’s between Meg’s legs, and actually runs away.

They begin on opposite sides, so the moment is lost, especially since neither can stop laughing from the man’s frightened face.   The two dancers take their positions waiting for the music.

A clanging cowbell cues the beginning of the song.  The two dancers saunter towards one another, eyes locked in a passionate embrace.  It’s taken years, but on stage, he and Meg give the best ‘fuck me’ eyes ever. 

_Bed stay in bed_

_The feeling of your skin locked in my head_

He reaches Meg as she rolls her hips seductively.  Cas drops to the stage, enraptured, as he spins on his knees, mirroring her movements.  He crawls in her direction while she kicks at his face, nearly missing his chin as he fakes being thrown to the floor again.  The two dancers gyrate their pelvises in unison, heading to the poles, spending the first chorus twirling and spinning on the bars.

_Now if we’re talking body_

_You got a perfect one_

_So put it on me_

_Swear it won’t take you long_

They hit the floor simultaneously, strolling to center stage, facing each other.  Cas drops to his knees as Meg undulates her entire torso, his face guided by her stomach.  Then he snatches two handkerchiefs, handing one to Meg.  Castiel searches until he finds his favorite emerald gems, winking in his boyfriend’s direction.  Each dancer ties the fabric over their eyes blinding them.

_If you love me right_

_We fuck for life_

_On and on and on_

Meg plummets to her knees.  She and Cas are practically touching as they roll their bodies together from shoulder to thighs.  Castiel faux pushes her over, so his partner is on her back.  He creeps up her still body, and then performs three push-ups, his lips dangerously close.  However, with the blindfolds, this is all done by breath and memory.  His final move is to kick up into a handstand, flipping off her.  Once she rises to standing, they work in unison, spinning over the whole platform.  Meg and Castiel rip the Velcro harshly, their clothes cascading to the floor until they are naked with only the masks in place; his partner still wearing her waist jewelry.

_Bodies!_

_Let’s use them up til every little piece is gone_

Simultaneously, the dancers sashay over to the poles, tossing their thighs to the top, holding themselves in place while they undulating their torsos upside down, and finally, sliding down slowly, as the music ends their arms spread out wide.

The rest of the routines go amazingly, and the group gives them a standing ovation with Crowley smiling proudly.  It was a massive success that makes both dancers proud.

Castiel beelines for the hotel room.  He’s sweaty, and that larger than life tub is calling his name.  It takes a while to fill, and for the dancer to add just the right amount of lavender bubbles.  God, he loves that smell, so relaxing.  He’s been in the bath maybe five minutes, when he hears his boyfriend’s call, “Cas, where are you hiding?”

“In the tub.”  He yells back.  When he forces his eyelids open, he glimpses the naked body of one, Dean Winchester.  Castiel whimpers in encouragement of the sight.  “Do you want to join me?”

“Hell yes, but it’s kind of girly smelling.” 

“It’s lavender scented bubble bath, and if you don’t like it then don’t get in with me.”  The dancer smirks, as Dean doesn’t even pause as he slides in on the opposite side.

The sinful sigh that escapes Dean’s mouth makes Cas’s cock begin to swell.  “Jesus, Cas, this is just what I needed before tomorrow.”  The two men float in silence, the only sound is the soft hum of the Jacuzzi jets.  “You are the best boyfriend in the history of every boyfriend on the planet.”

The dancer giggles.  Castiel loves the quiet moments with his hunter.  There is something extraordinary about enjoying the sound of silence with someone.  He reluctantly opens his eyes, watching Dean purr in happiness.  “I kissed you on the plane.”

Green eyes go wide as Dean slips. His head travels under the water.  After a second, Cas worries, so he reaches out instinctively, ready to pull his hunter’s mouth above the water.  Dean resurfaces with a gasp screaming, “Son of a Bitch!”

Both men go motionless as Dean realizes that Cas was about to touch him.  Blue eyes clash onto green orbs as they wait out the older man’s wheezing.  Then Dean is the first to speak, “Has something changed?  Can you touch people now?”

“No not people, Dean, just you.  We still have to take things extremely slow, but yes, it seems the thought of caressing you specifically doesn’t fill me with agonizing fear.”

“What does it fill you with?”  His hunter bites his lower lip, his gaze zeroing in on the raven-haired man.

“Want, desire, need, take your pick.  You are very special to me, Dean Winchester.”  He thinks about adding the word love, but decides against it.  Castiel breaks their intense eye fucking to splash Dean playfully.

“Well shit, Cas.”  His boyfriend returns the splash, getting water all over his face.  “I don’t know if I should be happy you kissed me, or mad I missed it.”

Cas grins, rolling his eyes, “It was a peck on the cheek, nothing too erotic, I can promise you.”

“Your lips on my skin, Cas,” the hunter invades his space, caging the angel’s face with those powerful forearms.  “That is always erotic.”  The water sloshes around as Dean keeps his body just inches from Castiel’s.  “You, Castiel Novak, are more than special, you are my everything.”

The dancer thanks God himself for the dripping water on his cheeks as it hides the tears of joy.

 


	15. Crazy for You by Madonna

 

Castiel hits end on the Satellite phone, a huge smile plastered to his face.  It was nice to take an hour to discuss the trip with Dr. Shurley.  He and Dean are making such amazing strides in their relationship, that it helps to review things with his therapist.  Today marks the sixth day of the safari.  The scenery is gorgeous, a picture perfect moment at every turn.  Their first stop was a small ranch house set in the southern part of the Bushveld Region of South Africa.  A dry, open savanna rolling around them made getting up in the morning a pleasure.  Now, the group has settled into their second location near Limpopo in a massive hunting lodge that could easily house twenty or more people.  The lodge sits close to a mountain range, so the landscape is green and lush.  The dancer adores the wraparound porch with several rocking chairs. 

He glances over his shoulder, through the open-air windows, into the dining hall.  Benny is reading his worn out copy of _A Storm of Swords_ , while Meg sprawls across the banquet table watching a movie on Sam’s laptop.  A wonderful magical talent of the youngest Winchester is his ability to detect Wi-Fi.  This is how they spend their down time.  The hunting group is gone most the day, leaving them to amuse themselves.  Occasionally, one of Crowley’s ‘new friends’ will stay behind, but Benny makes it very clear that Meg and Cas are not playthings.

The party atmosphere at night was not expected.  It seems Fergus is keen to meeting new people, and brings them home for all sorts of debauchery.  Thank God he works at The Devil’s Trap, because the shit going down all over the compound is seven ways to fucked up.  Cas now has an up-close understanding of every fetish in the book, some he wishes he didn’t.  After dark, it’s as if all the private rooms from the dark pleasures club have come to life, but the participants just do it out in the open.  Last night there were 15 people here intoxicated and naked.  It was insane.  The two dancers performed for an hour, then recited dirty limericks nude for another hour before calling it a night.  He and Meg both crawled back to their rooms, Benny in tow.  The southern man never leaves their side until each Winchester waves, or at least can be heard snoring.

Now Castiel understands the importance of Benny.  The very large Louisiana native has one mission the entire excursion.  Nobody puts a finger on Meg or Cas, well, except for their bunkmates, of course.  It is now very apparent that Castiel always shares a room with Dean, and Meg with Sam.  The Winchesters leave their separate rooms before sun up, but not before Benny appears to sit in the hallway, guarding the bedroom doors.  He would like to say that it’s all unnecessary, but so far, four different individuals have attempted to paw at the dancers.  Never anyone from the original hunting crowd, but the strangers that didn’t have to sign any documents, and are usually too drunk to give a damn.  The new people try it once, but after taking a beating from Benny and/or a Winchester, they choose to steer clear.

During the day, the place is very different, the ideal setting of tranquility.  A group headed by Bobby and Dean will leave at dawn to hunt the early morning game, and a second crew catches up with them around 9am, lead by Sam.  There are three Satellite phones for the company.  One always stays with Benny as a safety precaution, and so Cas can call Dr. Shurley.  Today there are only two slackers who have chosen to snooze all day.  Cas spotted Dick Roman at lunch, escorted by an unknown female.  They both stuck to the other side of the dining hall.  He worried for the girl, but she appeared fine so he let it go.  With all the foreign faces floating around, Benny keeps a short leash on the dancers.  The bodyguard has been very strict with his one rule; if you see me, I can see you.  Meg broke the commandment on day two, scooting off to take a nap.  She woke up tied to a couch in the commons room, while Benny and Cas played Chess.

The tiny brunette hates having a babysitter and whines constantly.  Castiel doesn’t mind the safety of Benny when Dean is gone.  However, he will always prefer the company of his Winchester.  They have barely seen each other since arriving in Africa.  Cas works until eleven, and Dean is up by four, so most nights they see each other sleep.  While Dean does catch the dancing part of their shows, the jovial jester routines at the end, he skips.

Although tonight, that all changes.  Crowley has declared that the guests must perform in a deviant talent show.  Castiel was very uneasy about hosting such an event, but alas, Fergus gave them the evening off.  The Scottish man has proclaimed that he is the King of Hell, and will MC the naughty times.  So this morning the dancer woke to a note from his hunter stating that Cas needs to be dressed and ready to go, with an overnight bag, by 6pm.  Excitement has been strumming over his body all day.  He gets a whole night alone with Dean.  Most of the hour with Dr. Shurley was spent discussing what should be Castiel’s next baby step.  Cas worries over his lower lip, wavering between nervous and eager for the rest of the afternoon.

****

At 5:50pm, Castiel perches on the top step of the porch.  It gives him a superb view of the front gate.  There is a ten-foot fence surrounding the compound, leaving the only entrance in Cas’s sight.  He taps his foot, hoping he’s dressed appropriately in a light pair of skinny jeans, a pale blue V-neck t-shirt, and white converse sneakers.  He’s showered, and his khaki backpack rests on the step below him.  The dancer is ready for anything, and so he waits.

Twenty minutes later still finds the raven-haired man in the same position.  There are a billion reasons for Dean’s tardiness.  Cas has observed the Winchesters wrangling the participants, and the term ‘herding cats’ comes to mind.  Suddenly, he spots six vehicles barreling towards the lodge.  Three belong to Winchester Hunters; the others are from the tagalongs.  However, a dark green Land Rover is pulling ahead.  Castiel grins, he would bet all his savings that Dean is the driver of the faster SUV.  His hunter despises making Cas wait.  Benny runs up the drive, opening the gate for the vehicles to enter.  Meg lounges next to him sighing, “Have fun tonight.  Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Meg, I’m pretty sure that list is blank.”  She nods her head, chuckling.

The first Land Rover halts at the end of the drive, and Cas was correct as Dean climbs out of the driver’s side waving.  “Later, Meg.” 

He doesn’t even hear her reply; his only focus is the extremely sexy hunter leaning against the front of his car.  Dean is so fucking hot in his African hunting gear with a pair of snug overly worn jeans, a dirty white Henley, solid black boots, and a green army jacket.  Yet, the accessory to end all accessories is the thigh holster for his handgun.  Dean explained that there are dangerous animals in the wild, and you need to have a weapon ready at all times.  Honestly, Castiel doesn’t care why; he just finds the look so mouthwatering his dick hardens at the sight.  Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, that fine piece of ass is his boyfriend.

His hunter’s face is harsh as he yells out orders.  Yet, his gaze never leaves Castiel’s body as the dancer saunters over to him with a smirk.  Without warning, there is a tall blonde saddling up next to Dean, stroking his shoulder.  Cas is pretty sure her name is Lilith, or something, but he tries not to pay attention to the additional people.  The woman’s voice is cooing as Cas approaches, “Hey Dean, I heard you’re doing an old school overnight with tents and the whole shebang.  Want some company?”

“No.”  The hunter growls with daggers shooting from his eyes as he moves to the passenger side of the SUV.  Lilith continues to pet Dean.  Castiel is sure she just ruined his surprise, and Dean is pissed.  “Get the fuck off of me!”

Dean tugs open the door, gesturing for Cas to get in, “Hey Cas, you ready?”

Before the dancer can respond, the blonde huffs dramatically, “Why does he get to go?”

“Lilith, this is my boyfriend, Castiel.  Angel, please get in, there is no one here worth meeting.”  Castiel jumps in with a bright smile directed towards the horrified woman. 

Dean takes the backpack, “I just need to grab some supplies, and were off.”  The dancer bounces his head happily.

As the Land Rover rushes out the front gate, Castiel can physically see Dean relax.  The ruthless facial expression lightens until, after about ten minutes, it’s replaced with the soft features of his Winchester.  They drive in silence for almost an hour, and then Cas spots the tent and roaring fire.  A makeshift fence of local tumbleweed and trees surround the camping site to keep predators at bay.  Once the SUV pulls inside the circle, Dean jumps out and closes the final gap.  “Were here, what do you think?”

Castiel slips out of the vehicle as if in a dream.  The large, white tent reminds him of the movie “Out of Africa.”  The fire is huge, and just to the side of the tent is a dark, wooden table with two chairs.  A black cast iron pot sits on the edge of the flames.  “Dean, this is beautiful!  God, it’s what I pictured an African safari would be like.”

“Most people do, so I thought it might be a kick to go retro tonight.”  The hunter leans over, inspecting the contents of the pot.  “Oh, Bobby left us some beef stew with veggies for dinner.  This shit is amazing.  I’ve also got some food supplies and stuff in the truck, hold on.”

The dancer wanders over to the tent, peeking inside.  Two gas lanterns hang from the ceiling, along with two fluffy white cots that are maybe an inch apart.  Several black feathers are scattered over the beds.  He goes in and pushes the cots together.  “We won’t be needing that much space.”  

“If it’s too rustic, we can go back?”  Dean’s voice startles the dancer from his thoughts.

“No fucking way.”  Cas shakes his head profusely.  “I need a break from crazy town.”

“Awesome, me too.  Would you like still or sparkling water with dinner?”  Cas follows the green-eyed beauty outside giggling.

“Wow, aren’t we being fancy tonight?  What’s with the feathers?”

“Dude, I’m not going to drink alcohol with it just being the two of us, and I found the feathers yesterday.  Made me think of you, which reminds me...”  He retrieves a Satellite phone from his back pocket, along with an extra battery.  “I want you to take out the old battery, replace it with the new one, and turn it on.”

Castiel rolls his eyes.  He has done this drill a dozen times.  “Dean, I know how to work the phone.”

“Humor me, Cas.  What if I fell into the fire?  How would you call for help?  These phones are your only lifeline to the rest of the hunting party and the outside world.”  He shoves the equipment into Cas’s hands.

The angel relents, changing the battery without a hitch.  “There.  Are you happy now?”

“Very.  I’m going to put it in the glove box.  But where do I always keep a spare battery?”

“Duh!  Under the mattress where you sleep.   I only watch you place it at every stop.”  He tracks the hunter as he puts the phone in the vehicle, returning with a very old boom box.  “Where did you find such a relic?”

“They needed all the sound equipment for their perverted show, so this is all I could snag for entertainment.”

Castiel lowers his voice to a gravelly, liquid sex volume, “I think between the two of us, the entertainment part of the evening is covered.”

Dean’s mouth physically drops as he stutters, “Damn Cas, give me a fucking heart attack.”

After dinner, Dean turns on the music while he cleans up the plates.  Castiel hums along to _Holiday_ until his brain halts completely, “Dean, are we listening to Madonna?”

“Umm the box only plays cassettes.  The Immaculate Collection is the only one I could find.  I like her stuff.”  The hunter puffs up his chest on the last word, like he’s defending his choice.

Cas raises his hands in surrender, “Oh I love Madonna.”  The dancer watches his boyfriend as he scrubs their plates, pouring more sparkling water into his cup.

The sun has set, leaving the fire, and the lanterns in the tent, as the only light source on earth.  Yet, the stars over them are spectacular.  Both men sit quietly, sipping their drinks, totally at peace with one another.  Abruptly Dean stands, removing his jacket and Henley, leaving him shirtless.  Castiel licks his lips glaring at the tan skin, his gaze following the wings on his hunter’s back.  Dean turns up the volume to the music, crossing closer to the flames.  “Cas, come dance with me.  The next song is my favorite.”

“Okay.”  He tosses his own shirt on the table.  The angel drifts over, slightly confused to stand face to face with Dean as the next song begins.  Emerald gems lock onto his blue orbs as their bodies sway in unison to the slow beat.  Madonna’s _Crazy for you_ plays in the African air.

_Swaying room as the music starts_

_Strangers making the most of the dark_

_Two by two their bodies become one_

Dean’s rocking extremely close to Cas, but is careful to never brush against his skin.  The dancer discovers he’s sad over the lack of contact.  Flickering flames paint the other’s man face with constantly changing shadows.  The imagery is mesmerizing.  Nevertheless, his train of thought is blown off the tracks as the most remarkable event occurs.  Dean Winchester sings:

_I’m crazy for you_

_Touch me once and you’ll know it’s true_

_I never wanted anyone like this_

_It’s all brand new; you’ll feel it in my kiss_

_I’m crazy for you, crazy for you_

His boyfriend’s voice is just as beautiful as the man himself.  Castiel should feel fear, or even a touch of apprehension, but he doesn’t.  He needs this like the air he breathes.  Desire builds in his gut, Cas’s exposed skin tickles with a sudden want he hasn’t had in almost two years, if ever.  The dancer stretches up onto his toes, kissing Dean swiftly on the lips.  The chaste kiss ends in a flash, but is life defining as they both freeze, their gazes lost on the other.  The hunter stays silent, letting Cas make the next move.   Castiel slips both his hands into Dean’s, interlacing their fingers.  Then he tugs slightly, encouraging Dean to move with music.

As Cas sings:

_If you read my mind you’ll see_

_It’s all brand new, I’m crazy for you_

_And you know it’s true_

_I’m crazy, crazy for you_

Then together they finish the song.

_It’s all brand new, I’m crazy for you_

_And you know it’s true_

_I’m crazy, crazy for you_

Eventually the spell breaks, and Dean glances down at their connected hands.  “I don’t think I can ever let go.”

“Then don’t.”  Cas replies his facing shining in joy.

They don’t even pay attention to the rest of the cassette.  Neither man will ever be able to say how long they stood in that moment, their hands caressing for the first time as an electric current flows between them.  Later Dean will explain it as being hit by lightning, and Cas will grin and agree.

Finally, they stumble into the tent, exhaustion forcing them to the cots.  But at the sight of the feathers, Castiel gets an idea.  “Dean, I want you to strip and sit down on the bed.”

“I can’t.”  The hunters green eyes are so pitiful as he raises their locked fingers.  “Never letting go remember?”

“Dean, you will like this, I promise.”  Cas gives the other man an encouraging wink.

His boyfriend complies to the request, and then holds his lonely hands out for Castiel.  Dean looks like a toddler who has lost his favorite stuffed animal.  The dancer takes no time joining the birthday suit club, and then strolls towards the cots.  He takes one of the feathers into his mouth, which causes Dean’s lips to perk up on the ends.  “Whatchya doing Cas?”

Castiel’s mouth is full so he grunts through his teeth, “stay still.”

“Why do those two words make me fucking horny?”  The angel notices that indeed Dean’s cock is filling with blood, stimulated by his presence and words alone.

Cas positions himself just behind Dean so he can hold his hands, while using the feather in his mouth to trace the broken wings on his boyfriends back.  The hunter hangs his head, humming in pleasure with all the physical contact.  As soon as Castiel has drawn the extensive black tattoo, he moves to lower himself to the ground in between Dean’s knees.  Cas halts before scooting too close, trying to decide how to do this, but honestly the tension in his chest is more from excitement than panic, but for the first time tonight, there is a sense of trepidation.  The dancer again interlaces his fingers with Dean’s, spitting out, “spread your legs more.”

“Jesus Cas, I think I just had a stroke.”  Castiel keeps his connection to the hunter, dropping their hands just below Dean’s thighs.  The angle allows Dean’s forearms to graze over his own skin near his groin.  Cas will only touch Dean’s hands, but can stroke over the man’s crotch and inner thighs with Dean’s own arms.  He tests the theory by pulling Dean’s hand so his elbow rubs over his hard dick.  Dean moans, closing his eyes, “So weird, but in a good way.”

With the feather in his mouth, Cas runs the soft plumage up and down Dean’s torso, paying particular attention to his erect nipples, all the while swishing his hands back and forth to brush against Dean’s erection.  There aren’t enough words in the English dictionary to describe how incredible his lover looks in this moment.  The hunter is practically crying with all the sensation beating down on him.  Frustration is pounding through Castiel.  He wants more, God damn it!  “Shit Dean, lay back now!”

Dean doesn’t have the ability to talk anymore; he just whines and groans as he obeys.  Castiel leans over his body, dragging the feather from his neck painfully slow to the hunter’s crotch.  He releases one hand so his boyfriend can touch himself, Cas doing the same with his free hand.  He continues to draw small circles with the black, silky feather over every single freckle, worshiping the marks that make him Dean.  He only stops when the men cum hard in unison, screaming each other’s name.  The hunter stirs, but before he completely rises, Cas stops his movements.  Grabbing a new feather, he swirls their release together, practically painting Dean’s abdomen.  His boyfriend watches intently as Castiel scoops up a bit of jizz, licking the salty treat.  “Fucking Hell Cas, I am dead.  You literally just killed me with that.”  Then a more serious expression blossoms on Dean’s face.  “You can say no, but I would love…”

He doesn’t even wait for the hunter to finish speaking.  Castiel swoops down, planting a soft sweet innocent kiss to Dean’s lips.  The green-eyed God whispers, “I’m in heaven.”

The next morning, the angel peeks out over his cot to a beautiful view.  Dean is quietly sleeping next to him, his face stunning as his lower lip extends into a small pout.  Yet, the most breathtaking sight is that his hunter is still holding his hand, refusing to ever let go.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My lovely amazing editor/beta put together a playlist. Check it out!
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLd_xfPGGB-BxmxK0R2ldoJIz2ruXXuPYp


	16. Lovesong by Adele

 

The wind whips through his short, light brown hair as Dean pushes hard on the accelerator.  His fists tightening around the steering wheel of the SUV as he secretly prays that Cas is waiting for him.  It’s their new routine, and every day, Dean stresses that today will be the day it ends.  Since the night they spent alone in the tent, Castiel meets him at the front gate with a kiss, still chaste, sliding his fingers into Dean’s.  His angel’s touch is the hunter’s new drug.  He can’t get enough.  When he’s gone all day, he craves it with every fiber in his body.  The second his skin meets Castiel’s, be it fingers, palm, or lips, Dean exhales with pure satisfaction.  It’s the first, last, and only thing he will ever need.

Day 10 of the excursion finds them in the Free State region, just south of Lesotho.  This area is known for vibrant green, open plains and grasslands stretching as far as the eye can see.  The dramatic mountain scenery frames every glance, making the weather very pleasant, almost cool.  Today they were hunting up in the foothills, chasing Mountain Reedbucks. 

Nevertheless, Dean doesn’t give a shit about any of it, because nothing compares to the Caribbean blue eyes of his angel.  It’s quiet in his vehicle; most the tenants are napping, getting some rest before the nightly depravity of the human soul begins.  He cracks his neck trying to calm the building tension there.  God, he wants to tell Crowley no more.  Castiel is done playing puppet to their wicked whims, but he can’t.  This is Cas’s job.  His angel signed a contract and will honor his commitments.  Dean understands and respects that; however, working at the Devil’s Trap when they return home is soon to be a topic of debate. 

Dean spots the slew of brown roofs that make up their newest home, and holds his breath in anticipation.  This new compound is not one lodge, but several small structures encased by a tall wood fence.  The main building is dead center, housing the expansive dining hall and kitchen.  Directly behind that is a spacious, empty white barn.  Lately Cas and Meg have been using it for rehearsal space, although Crowley has other ideas.  The rest are individual cabins for each guest, twelve in all.  The nice part is they are large with a little living area, king size bed, and a bathroom.  The downside is they only have two actual walls.  The other two are made of mosquito netting that can be zipped closed at night with dark curtains behind them.  People can’t see inside, but eavesdropping is super easy, making Dean self-conscious.  Not to mention it leaves Cas with limited places to go if he needed to hide.  He huffs at his sudden obsession with protecting his angel.  Dean knows that the damage done by Lucifer is where it stems from, but every day the desire to shield Cas grows.

The hunter smiles as the front gate swings open, giving him a glorious view of his own cabin slightly to the right.  Sam and Dean chose the cabins furthest from the main hall to separate themselves from the insanity that happens after dark.  It also allows Benny the ability to sit on the stoop of one cabin and still see his other charge.  However, just like yesterday and the day before that, Castiel perches on the stairs, waiting for him with a blissful smirk.  Dean doesn’t even pull all the way into the drive.  He parks the Land Rover to the side so the others can pass.  The hunter leaps from his truck, swiftly walking around to meet his angel. 

The butterflies in Dean’s stomach start doing the Tango at the gorgeous man before him.  Cas skips, fucking skips, turning the cuteness up to mega levels.  His eyes crash into sparkling sapphire gems stealing his ability to function.  Without warning, long, silky slim fingers are linking with his own as they both lean in for a quick kiss.  This time, Dean almost counts to two.  Even though the connection happens in less than a second, he knows those plush, pink lips.  They may look slightly chapped, but they feel like velvet.  Dean can actually sense the drug of his angel flooding his body.  He is finally sated.

As the hunter opens his eyes, he notices the hairs on the back of his neck standing upright.  Scanning the area, he spots the voyeur hiding just to the left of their cabin.  Before leaving Limpopo, Crowley made friends with two professional hunters who decided to take a break, tagging along to Free State.  Dean normally wouldn’t care, but one of the men, named Theo, has taken an interest in Cas.  He and his partner, Malachi, had been staying at the cabins during the day exclaiming that this was their vacation, so no hunting.  Malachi reminded Dean of a mouse with greasy, chin length brown hair and a douchey looking beard.  Theo was taller than Dean, his deep, sunken brown eyes almost black to match his oily hair.  He also had a scar across his face.  The hunter did not like them at all.  Benny had reported that both men had been following Meg and Cas throughout the day, even being so bold as to join them for meals.  They never crossed the line, but even the laid back guard had his doubts about their intentions towards the dancers.

Dean releases a feral, possessive growl, his eyes burning into the scarred man’s face, the meaning blatantly obvious, _MINE._   He would never say the word aloud.  Lucifer stole that from him by using it as a form of torture, but he can posture all he wants.  Cas pivots his head to glance in the same direction sighing.  “Would you like to pee on me next?”

“Not really into Golden Showers, but I have another substance I would enjoy spreading over those delicious wings of yours.”

His angel blushes, tugging his hand to guide him up the steps into their cabin.  “Come on.”  However, there is a yell from another vehicle that gets their attention.

Crowley is shouting as he steps out of the newly arrived SUV, approaching them.  “Castiel, do you have everything ready?”

“Yes.  The lessons will start promptly after dinner tonight and tomorrow.  No worries, Meg and I have taught ballroom before, so the dance should be fabulous.”

The hunter shakes his head, realizing this conversation has made a turn for the worse, “Dancing?  We don’t all have to take the class right?”

“Romeo, you aren’t going to leave your Juliet alone at the ball, are you?”  Crowley coos.  Ugh, this stupid ball idea was going to be the death of Dean.  MacLeod was tired of all the nudity and lewdness, so he decided that on day 13, he would host a masquerade ball.  However, no one was allowed to pick their outfits.  Nope, everyone submitted their measurements to the self-appointed King, and he ordered them from a shop in Johannesburg.  “By the way, the boxes should be arriving by plane tomorrow, after lunch.  Can Meg or someone meet the pilot to collect them?”

“Yes, we can handle that.” 

They both watch as the Scottish man scoots off to his own cabin.  “Tata boys.  See you in the barn for dance lessons, and yes, Winchester, it’s mandatory.”

Dean steps into their cabin, behind Cas, with a scowl on his face.  “This is stupid.  I don’t need to go; I already know how to waltz.”

“Oh, is that so?”  Cas tugs the thick curtains shut on both sides, flicking on the bedside lamp.  “Show me.”

He would fight over it, but this is not worth the battle and Cas would win anyways, he usually does.  The hunter places his hands in the appropriate positions in the air and sashays across the wooden planks, counting to four slowly, in his head.  After a few spins around the room, he halts, dropping his arms with a wicked bitch face, “See.  I told you I could do it.”

“Impressive, but you still have to come tonight.”  He wants to whine, but suddenly Cas is removing his clothes, getting ready to shower. 

Well he does release a whimper, but for a completely different reason.  “What?” 

“I need a partner to teach with, and since you are the only person who can touch me...”  His angel’s eyes glare at him questioningly.  “Do you want to watch?”

“Yes, please.”  Dean stutters breathlessly.

The hunter stumbles into the bathroom behind his naked angel.  He would literally follow that ass anywhere.

****

Dean lounges against the white wash wall of the barn, next to the sound system board.  Castiel deemed him good enough to skip the first part of the lessons.  This included very remedial instructions such as where to put your hands, how to count, where to place your feet.  All of which Dean already knew, so he was given the important job of maning the music, and snickering at the beginner dancers.  His favorite victim is Sam.  That man is the smartest human Dean knows, but also the most uncoordinated.  Thank God Lisa forced him to take Ballroom dance with her for a year.  She was trying out a new hobby and needed a partner.  Up until this day, the hunter considered it a waste of money, but now he has seen the light.

One massive surprise is how beautiful Meg looks tonight in her teaching gear.  She has on a pale pink, long sleeve leotard with a poufy pink skirt that falls at her knees.  Her dark hair is crafted into one long braid down the center of her back.  The fluffy material swooshes about as she dances, giving her movement even more fluidity.  The outfit, along with the nude dancing heels, makes her look so young it radiates a soft feminine appearance.  A strong urge to hug the tiny dancer keeps rising to the surface.  Yet, his raven-haired, sexy dancer doesn’t look bad either.  Cas is in a black pair of tight spandex pants that cling to all the right spots, with a thin white t-shirt.  The barely there fabric allows the dark lines of his tattoo to peek out as he moves.  He has a bright, genuine smile on his face because this is what Castiel truly wants to do one day; teach.  Dean’s mind dreams of a tiny little studio where Meg and his angel can instruct children during the day, and adults at night.  This is a good goal that the hunter plans to implement.

He’s lost in thought when Cas claps his hands commanding attention, “Okay, time to work with a partner.  Please decide what style you would like to dance, the feminine, or masculine, and choose a partner with the opposing choice.”  He waves his hand.  “Dean, please be my partner.”

Not a single person moves at the realization that Castiel (the haphephobic man) is about to dance with the eldest Winchester.  Meg’s eyes are saucers with a glint of anger.  Of course she’s jealous, she has been with Cas since they were five.  She saved him from bullies in elementary school, and from Satan himself, so why does Dean get the honor of touching him first.  The hunter tries to give her an apologetic look, but she rolls her eyes, yanking harshly on Sam’s hand.

Castiel shouts as Dean approaches “Bobby, if you could man the speaker system please.”  Bobby was able to weasel out of the dancing part of the ball claiming old age.  Crowley agreed, simply because someone needed to focus on the music.  “I want everyone to stand along the wall and watch for the first song.  Pay particular attention to the style you chose.  Dean and Sam will be dancing the masculine while Meg and myself will be performing the feminine role.”  Cas snatches Dean’s hands, placing them in the air.  The hunter is frozen, he’s never touched his angel beyond his hands.  Clearly, in a matter of seconds that is all about to change.  If Castiel has any trepidation over the new position, he doesn’t show it.  His face is serious and focused, just as a proper instructor should be.  However, as the group moves to find a spot on the wall, Cas tilts in whispering, “It’s okay, I can do this, don’t be nervous.”  Dean finds his shoulders relaxing at his angels words.  Fuck, if Cas can’t read him like a book.  “Okay Bobby, when I nod my head press play.”

This is it!  Cas steps into Dean’s personal space, just close enough so Dean can place his hand on his angel’s waist, gingerly, and taking his other hand and clasping Castiel’s.  There is a split moment where Dean can observe Cas breathing heavily, trying to calm his nerves.  But the dancer quickly recovers, and then grins at Dean before nodding his head.

“On eight, Dean” the delicate beat of Adele’s _Lovesong_ envelopes the two men as Cas bounces his head in time with the music.  On the correct count, Dean takes control, moving his lover over the dance floor.

_Whenever I’m alone with you_

_You make me feel like I am home again_

_Whenever I’m alone with you_

_You make me feel like I am whole again_

Green eyes become lost in the deep cerulean blue staring back at him.  The world around them disappears into muted colors; an imaginary bubble secures the two men in their dance together.  Castiel is pliant in Dean’s arms, never questioning a single movement, letting the hunter lead.  To add a bit of surprise, the hunter spins his angel, gifting him a giggle from those gorgeous lips.  In that moment, Dean knows this man in his arms is his forever.  Cas pushes his comfort zone every day to bring them closer together, this dance being a prime example.  The new skin on skin contact is bestowing Dean with a new high.

_However far away_

_I will always love you_

_However long I stay_

_I will always love you_

_Whatever words I say_

_I will always love you_

The song is ending, and Dean refuses to acknowledge it.  He desires an eternity with his Castiel.  Not just a dance, not just a month in Africa, he truly wants to spend a lifetime with this man.  His father and his homophobia are dead and buried.  Dean is free.  Not a single person has judged their relationship.  In fact, those that count, have encouraged it.  Dean is free.  His fingers once broken for thinking about touching a man now caress the most important one.  Cas has been in a constant battle with his agonizing fears to be with him.  It’s now Dean’s turn to make his own strides forward.  However, Dean Winchester doesn’t do baby steps, he jumps off the cliff.  He is truly free.

_I will always love you_

_Cause I love you_

The last beat of the song sends a shiver over Dean.  This is the perfect moment.  The hunter tips forward placing his lips near Cas’s ear.  Making sure to not touch, he sighs softly, “I love you, Cas.”

Shock clearly courses over his angel.  His blue gaze locks onto Dean, his grip on the hunter’s hand tightens almost painfully.  Then a gentle exhale brings back the dancer’s composure as he chastely kisses Dean.  Their mouths break apart as Cas replies, “I love you, Dean.”

The two men stand there, not giving a damn about anyone but each other.  Suddenly, Meg is clearing her throat with a smirk.  “That was beautiful, but I want a turn.”

Panic begins to bubble up from his angel’s serene face.  Oh my God!  Meg thinks she can dance with Castiel now.  The dancer releases his hold on Dean as he turns to his best friend, “Meg I can’t,” the pain in his voice evident.  “It’s just Dean.”

Moisture is prickling at the edge of her whiskey brown orbs, “Why?”

“I don’t know how to explain it, but he makes me feel safe.”

A cold chuckle erupts from Meg’s throat.  “Safe!  I have done nothing but keep you safe our entire lives.  Does that mean nothing to you?”

“Meg, you are extremely important and I promise one day…” 

She cuts off his words, tears spilling onto her cheeks in a black river of mascara.  “Everything is changing, and you are completely clueless.”  At this point, the woman is screaming hysterically.  “Have you even noticed what’s happening to me?”

“Did he touch you?”  Castiel’s tone is pure fury.  His angel’s eyes are scanning the space, looking for someone.

Sam and Dean hastily assess that Cas is not referring to the younger brother, and they yell in unison, “Did who touch you?”

Meg and Cas swivel to face them, and Dean knows something is up.  However, the expression on Sam’s face is downright murderous.  The lady in pink simply drops her head staring at the ground, “Shit.” 


	17. Somewhere Over the Rainbow by Israel Kamakawiwo’ole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: I added a tag. References to past rape. It's only a couple sentences about Meg's interactions with Dick Roman. 
> 
> Life is not always rainbows and unicorns but that makes hope a beautiful thing.

* * *

 

 

“We just want to know the truth, Meg.”

Sam is kneeling at her feet, begging for honesty.  The two dancers perch on the edge of the couch in the younger Winchester’s cabin.  Dean tilts against the wall with his arms crossed.  He hasn’t spoken a word since they got here, but if Meg doesn’t answer soon, he will have to.  They were able to finish the ballroom lesson, and then Sam suggested a meeting for the two couples.  However, the last 45 minutes has merely been Sam pleading, and Meg just shaking her head no.  Cas will occasionally glance at Dean, but has remained silent.

She cards her fingers through Sam’s hair as the giant places his head in her lap.  Dean is quickly becoming aware that this is no summer fling for either of them.  Meg has fresh tears falling to her cheeks as Sam is on the verge of joining her.  She appears even smaller, wearing only her leotard, Sam’s massive palms rubbing her thighs.  They are both hurting so badly, and over what?  That’s the problem; everyone is digging their heels in, and won’t budge.  Dean decides to add his two cents, “Why don’t you trust us?”

“It has nothing to do with trust, Dean.”  Cas replies, his cerulean eyes darkening.  His angel is angry, but Dean doesn’t understand why.

“Oh that’s exactly what this is about.  There is a reason you are protecting some asshole that clearly hurt Meg, but neither of you trusts us enough to help, and it’s insulting.”

Castiel rises to face Dean toe to toe, “Insulting?  You two treat us like fragile children that can’t care for ourselves.  That, in itself, is insulting.”  His angel is shouting, his volume getting louder with each word.  “Meg and I were perfectly fine way before the Winchesters ever arrived.”

“Oh, I’m sorry that our way of caring for you is so horrible.”  The hunter’s tone is cold and raised to match Cas’s.  There is a tiny voice in the back of Dean’s mind hysterically screaming for him to shut up.  He can actually see the train wreck that’s about to happen, but his stubborn streak is taking over. 

Meg pushes Sam off her so she can stand and defend her friend.  “That’s not what he meant and you know it, you fucking imbecile.”

“So we are at the name calling part of the evening.  How about you take some responsibility in the fact that this whole shit storm all boils down to…” before the word exits his mouth, Dean knows he’s making a mistake, but God Damn it, she’s ruining everything.  Tonight should have been a special date for him and Cas to always remember.  The first time they said I love you, BUT NO!  This little woman has made it all about her.  “…you are a whore.”

Silence, complete and utter silence slaps him in the face. 

Three sets of eyes swivel to face Sam, the poor guy just stands frozen, his mouth opening and closing like a God damn fish.  Regrettably, the towering Winchester doesn’t find his thoughts fast enough, and Meg crumples into tears, rushing to the bathroom and slamming the door. 

“Get out!”  Castiel roars sending a shudder down Dean’s spine.  “We are done with this crap.  You two can sleep in the other cabin.”

Sam’s hazel orbs go sad as he releases his secret weapon.  Full on puppy face towards Cas.  “I didn’t do anything.”

“Precisely!  Your numb-nut brother here calls her… that word, and you did shit!”  Since Cas isn’t going to strike either man, he takes to whipping them both with a pillow as the two brothers stumble down the cabin steps. 

Dean should apologize.  He’s not stupid, he is fully aware that he’s in the wrong, but his entire world is tipping upside down and he’s just stunned.  “Cas, come on.”

He observes as Cas takes a deep breath.  “No, Dean, you really fucked up.  We…” he glances over his shoulder, “…need space.”  With that, his angel goes back inside, harshly shutting the curtains.

The two men wander over to the other cabin in a complete daze.  Sam is actually crying, which is either endearing or pathetic, but Dean’s leaving it alone for now.  In between sobs, “We can’t leave them alone.”

“They can have their space, but we are still going to keep the wolves at bay.”

****

The pouring rain drowns Dean like a rat in the city.  His clothing weighs heavy on his skin, completely soaked, but the hunter doesn’t stir.  He positions himself just outside one of the open-air windows to the barn.  He could spend an eternity watching his angel dance.  Cas wears a nude pair of spandex shorts, giving Dean an excellent view of his muscles rolling with every step.  Beautiful, everything about his angel is breathtaking.  Benny’s inside, sitting in the corner, reading a book.  Meg has curled up like a cat at his feet.  It may be the middle of the day, but obviously, the lull of the downpour seems to have knocked her out cold.

The nasty weather kept the crew from hunting, so Dean is in stalker mode.  The fight that sent Meg and Cas to their own cabin was two days ago, but spending this much time away from his angel is teetering on torture.  All he’s gotten recently has been a handful of long gazes, but never a kiss, a touch, or even a smile.  Withdrawal is sweeping him into a dark void.  He can’t survive like this for much longer.  Glimpsing down, Dean’s fingers are trembling but it’s not from his wet skin.  The hunter spent breakfast yesterday begging forgiveness in the middle of the dining hall, yet he got zilch in return.  There is something deeper going on here, and the mystery is killing Dean.

Sam is a mess.  The giant didn’t even make it out of the cabin this morning, after drinking himself into a whiskey stupor, screaming Meg’s name.  Thank God the weather gave him the day off to recover.  Every person in the compound is incredibly aware of the situation.  The squabble has been very public, possibly giving certain vermin ideas.

Theo and Malachi are circling close by, keeping tabs on their prey.  Dean can sense it.  All the emotional turmoil is making them vulnerable.  He would bet his soul that one of the dark hunters is crouching in the rain, watching him for any sign of weakness.  Only Dean’s eyes move as he scans the area waiting.

Alas, that is the exact moment that one, Fergus MacLeod, turns the corner of the main building advancing on the elder Winchester.  Crowley is their boss, so normally this is not an issue.  However, Dean pleads with all his heart that it were possible to bleach out ones eye balls.  The Scottish man is naked as the day he was born, except for a pair of black rain boots that reach his knees.  To top off the spectacular ensemble, he has a huge black golf umbrella to match.  Crowley halts right before his umbrella strikes Dean in the head.  “Fuck dude, put some pants on.”

“Really Deanna, squeamish about my dangly bits?”  Fergus cocks his eyebrow with a half-hearted laugh.

The hunter rolls his eyes, glimpsing at Cas as he leaps across the floor effortlessly.  “I have seen your junk more than my own, Crowley.”

“That might be true, with your repressed sexuality and love for an emotionally stunted hottie.”  Dean has to give the guy pointers for nailing that one pretty close to home.  The shorter man peers over Dean’s arm, spotting the dancer.  “Castiel kicked you out of the love nest, and now you’re stalking him?’

“I keep telling you.  Theo and Malachi are bad news.  If they stay, something awful is going to happen.”

Crowley sighs with annoyance.  “You may be right.  I think those dip shits stole my Rolex.  Consider them gone tomorrow morning.  I have a foursome in fifteen minutes that should last the night, but after that, I’m all for tossing them to the lions.”

“Make sure to wear protection.  Some of these new friends are kind of sketchy.”

  “I’ve got my rubbers on.”  Fergus does a little dance to demonstrate his footwear.

Dean’s eyes are about to roll out of his head with exasperation when Cain joins the pow wow.

“Afternoon.   Just the two gentlemen I was looking for.”  Cain’s cowboy hat is keeping most the rain off his face and long gray hair.  The extensive dark, heavy trench coat makes him look drastically different standing next to the nude guy, although the older man doesn’t even flinch when his eyes drop down Crowley for a flash.

“What do you need Cain, I’m late for an orgy?”

“I just had an interesting conversation with Dick Roman.”  Dean’s impressed the he didn’t chuckle after saying Dick, especially with the current view.

Crowley smirks, “I can’t really picture it being interesting, but go on.”

“On occasion I have noticed Roman glaring at Ms. Masters.  After the outburst the other day, I decided to investigate.”

He suddenly has Dean’s full attention.  “And by investigate you mean…?”

“I pulled out my hundred year old bottle of scotch and stole some of your boyfriend’s Xanax.  Crushed those puppies up and drugged the shit out of Dick.  Then I proceeded to ask him questions while searching his cabin.”

The hunter steps forward because this just got fascinating.  “What did he say?”

Even Crowley is keeping his mouth shut as Cain speaks. 

“It would appear that Dick and Ms. Masters have a past.  One that could possible put Roman Industries in the gutter.  To save himself from ruin, he paid Castiel and Meg 50,000 dollars to keep quiet.  I have his copy of the contract in my coat.”  Cain pats his inside coat pocket.

Dean shakes his head slightly, water droplets flinging from his nose.  “What the hell happened that he felt the need to pay her off?”

“Good question, my boy.”  Cain taps his temple for emphasis.  “Ten months ago, Roman started booking Ms. Masters to escort him to events.  He would overpay and never asked for anything beyond her time.  It was quite the brilliant plan really, because it made Meg compliant to getting into a vehicle with him alone.”

The hunter shifts on his feet because he does not like where this is going.  His boots squish with the movement.

“Six and a half months ago, he picked her up at The Devil’s Trap for an evening out.  Meg was expecting another fancy party with business associates.  That is not what transpired.”  A dark, sorrowful expression plays across Cain’s face.  “Roman took her to an abandoned building in Long Island.  There were several men present.  It was not consensual.  At the conclusion of the evening, he dropped her in the alley behind the club, with ten grand.”

The short Scottish man leans in, “I need this to be extremely clear.  How do you know it was not consensual?”

Cain gazes into the barn.  He cocks his head to the right, suggesting that the men move further from the open window.  They all take several steps away, tucking closer together under the umbrella.  “Dick said that his second favorite part of the evening was listening to her screams of no and stop, as each man took his turn.  It aroused him.”

Fergus nods, accepting that as plenty of evidence against the condemned man.  The hunter shivers because he has heard Meg’s shrieks the past two nights as she battles nightmares.  Dean swallows because he has to ask, “And his actual favorite part?”

“How delicious she tasted as he tore a portion of muscle from her upper thigh with his teeth.”  The gray haired man grimaces, “especially as he chewed and swallowed.”

Dean is gagging.  A wave of nausea washes over him.  “Why the hell did she not report him?”

“Dean.”  Crowley looks at him as if he’s an idiot.  “She was a paid escort.  We understand that what he did was vile and wrong, but if the investigation into her assault lead them to the Devil’s Trap, it would have been shut down.  Meg stayed silent to keep her job and care for your precious Cas.” 

“I’m going to murder him.”  The hunter is about to make the smarmy bastard bleed when Cain grasps his shoulder. 

“There is more.”

Fergus and Dean’s mouths drop open simultaneously, but MacLeod finds his voice first, hissing, “How in the bloody fucking hell is there more?”

“He was less coherent during this conversation.  The Xanax was hitting a little faster than I realized, but she’s protecting something.”

“Cas?”  Dean’s not sure if it was a statement or a question.  The rage behind it is crystal clear.

“No.”  Cain scratches at the silver beard on his face, searching for the right words.  “Roman referred to the thing as _it._   I will rip _it_ from her.  No one will miss _it._ ”  The older man shakes his head in confusion.  “He was rambling, but I’m fairly certain he wasn’t talking about Castiel.”

The hunter’s gaze drills into MacLeod.  Crowley raises his hands, “I knew he was a douche bag, but this is way beyond acceptable.  The question is, do we kick him out with Theo and Malachi in the morning, or just tell people we did?”

Silver hair is bouncing as Cain ponders the query, but Dean is lost.  “Wait.  Where would he go instead?”

“A shallow, unmarked grave,” Crowley’s tone is solemn with a touch of ice.  “Should we ask Sam?”

Now Dean is positive that Fergus is not kidding.  “I wasn’t serious earlier about murdering Dick?”

“Well I am.”  The Scottish man is softly yelling so not to be heard.  “I do not tolerate non-consensual behavior.  But he still has something over Meg, do we hope it goes away, or make damn sure it never sees the light of day?”

“I don’t know.”  There is still a missing piece to the puzzle.  It could be nothing, or _it_ might be everything. 

“Well figure it the fuck out Winchester!  I will be in Abaddon’s cabin tonight.  Feel free to interrupt if death is on the menu.  If not, we will expel them after breakfast, and then I will call my wife.  She can have Roman’s life destroyed before he crawls back to New York.”  The shorter man’s knuckles are nearly white as he grasps the umbrella in anger.

Dean mumbles, “Your wife sounds scarier than you.”

“My sweet girl is an angel, but do not cross her.  Alright, keep me informed.  I’m off to fuck with wild abandonment.”  Crowley stomps off into the rain.

The remaining two men contemplate the offer.  A heavier downpour begins, yet they continue to stand.  Cain crosses over to the open window, gesturing for Dean to join him.  The older gentleman sighs, “Penny for your thoughts.”

“Honestly, I’m just trying to put my head around it.”  He strolls over to peek in on his angel.  “Maybe I should ask Sam.”

“Perhaps, it does affect his lover more than yours.”

“Why did you grill Dick anyways?”  Dean’s gaze is still following the graceful movements of his love.  The tender music dribbles under the pounding storm.

“I like Castiel.”  Cain grins warmly.  “He reminds me of my Colette.”

“Oh, are there similarities between them?”

The older man winks, “Yes, but that’ for another time.  What about Sam?”

“He deserves to be told.”

“Agreed.”  Cain nods as he ambles out towards the dining hall.

Dean’s world is spinning out of control.  There are too many moving pieces.  How can he maintain everyone’s safety?  Even if they were to remove Roman from the board, there is no guarantee.  Secrets are deadly, especially when a psychotic monster has all the answers.  He could scream at Meg until she spills, but it’s not worth the risk.  The hunter lowers his chin, attempting to find a light in the dark recesses of his mind.

Suddenly, his prayers are answered as he hears a knock on the frame of the window.  Lifting his face, blue eyes glare at him, causing his heart to stop.  “Cas.”

“There is no reason to stay, Benny is here.”  A gentle smile extends on Cas’s lips.  “You will catch your death out in this rain.”

“I need you.”  The hunter whispers like a confession.

His angel chews on his cheek.  “You still have me, Dean.  Nothing has changed, but I can’t leave Meg right now.”

“Because of the crap with Dick Roman.”

Pure shock fills Castiel’s expression.  “How?”

With a sly grin he responds, “One way or another Roman will be gone tomorrow.  You and Meg never broke the contract.” 

Nervous tension bleeds from his love, “We need to be extremely careful.  There is something else that he’s threatening her with; I’ve never seen Meg this frightened.”

“Do you know what _it_ is?  If I know…”

Cas’s shimmering blue eyes stare at the hunter, bubbling with fear as he cuts Dean off mid-sentence.  “I don’t.  She barely talks, just sleeps.”

Emerald and sapphire gems fall astray, letting their heart aches swirl like the storm around them.

Dean’s green orbs glisten with tears, “I love you.  Come back to our bed.”  The hunter wipes at raindrops on his cheek or at least that’s what he tells himself.  “Please.”

“Don’t make me pick sides.  I promise, soon.” Castiel pauses his focus tilting towards his sleeping friend.  “Meg needs for Sam to make a choice.  She’s convinced herself that he only wants sex.  That he plans to toss her aside the minute we get back to New York.”

“Cas, he’s in love with her.  Can’t she see that?”  He places his hands on the windowsill, tilting in to be closer to his angel.  Maybe catch a whiff of his amazing scent.

“Dean I’m the only person who has ever loved her.  She’s completely blind to matters of the heart.”  Castiel ghosts his fingers over Dean’s hands.  The hunter flexes his palms, catching Cas’s hands in a tight embrace.  His favorite drug flows over him, shattering the drought.  A sob breaks free from Dean’s throat.  The dancer strokes his hands lovingly, “If Sam wants Meg, he needs a grand gesture.  Kind of like taking stripper lessons for a month for one private dance.”

The hunter grins with the memory, “Totally worth it.”  Abruptly, velvet lips are brushing against his mouth; one, two, three, four.  The longest kiss yet.  The storm may be raging onward, but to Dean, the sun just broke through the clouds and is showering his soul with warmth.  “I love you, Cas.”

“I will always love you, Dean.”  Castiel rests his forehead on the hunter’s.  “Tomorrow night, at the Masquerade ball, Sam wins Meg’s heart, and we all prevail.”

“What do I win?”

Castiel cups Dean’s chin with his hands, guiding the hunter’s lips to his own.  Another four count, chaste kiss gives him hope as Cas smirks.  “Me.”


	18. Young and Beautiful by Lana Del Rey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My lovely editor highly suggests listening to the song with the chapter or right before.
> 
> Master playlist:  
> https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLd_xfPGGB-BxmxK0R2ldoJIz2ruXXuPYp

* * *

 

Dean smells the stench of his brother the instant his foot is inside the mosquito netting.  He is certain Sam hasn’t showered since Cas threw them out.  The ferocious snore of the sleeping man is louder than the pouring rain.  A faint smile dances on his face.  Dean still has Castiel.  The world is turning at its normal pace, giving the hunter peace; Cas loves him.

Stripping his clothes off, he hangs them on a line in the corner of the room to dry, and decides a shower is in order.  Dean’s skin is cold to the touch from standing in the rain for hours.  A hot shower, clean warm clothes, and then he can attempt to heal his brother’s broken heart as well, or cause the giant to murder a man.  He hangs his head, digging his palms in to his eye sockets.  This is not going to be easy.

Ten minutes later, Dean is tapping Sam’s shoulder, “Hey Sammy, time to wake up.”

“Fuck you.  It’s raining, I don’t have to do anything.”  Sam tugs the sheet over his head, cocooning deeper into oblivion.

“You are an overgrown adult so do what you want, but I’ve got news about Meg.”  Dean lounges onto the couch, waiting for his words to seep into that thick skull.

Barely a count of five and Sam jerks up, shouting, “Meg!  Did she talk to you?”

“I didn’t talk to her, specifically, but…” Dean feels like a bit of an ass because only half of this conversation is happy news.  “You need to make some decision here, so listen up.  Do you want the good or the bad first?”

 Sam ponders the question while Dean takes in his brother’s appearance.  God, in his current condition the younger Winchester could be mistaken for a Sasquatch.  His chin is sprouting the beginnings of a beard, and his hair is so oily it could stand up on its own.  “I need good news Dean.”

“Alright, then it would seem that your girl needs a grand gesture to prove that you plan to stick around for a while.  She has this notion that you are only in it for the sex.”

His brother rubs his neck stretching, “To be honest, it started out as just fun.  You and Cas would disappear for hours, and Meg seemed to be looking for something to fill the void, but things… evolved.”

“How long you two been knocking boots?”  Dean would have sworn the relationship started just before they left for Africa.

“Just over two months.”

“Are you kidding me?  How did I miss the signs?”  Therefore, the girlfriend Naomi mentioned in Sam’s office was Meg.  Huh?

Sam rolls his eyes huffing, “Really?  You have been so wrapped up in everything Castiel; I’m surprised you remembered I even existed.  So a grand gesture?”

“Cas seems to think that it should happen at the Masquerade ball tomorrow.”  Maybe he won’t even have to discuss Dick Roman tonight.  He and Sam can just brainstorm ideas for winning over Meg.  No need to clue Sam in on the darker issues at play.  “Maybe start with an apology?”

“I’ve got some good ideas.  So what’s the bad news?”  Sam scans Dean, noticing that he can’t look him in the eye.  “Dean?”

His voice cracks as he tries to find the words, “I know who hurt Meg.”

“Who?!”  Sam raises to full stature, his chest rising and lowering with anger.  “Dean, who touched her?”

“Have you ever noticed a scar on Meg’s upper thigh?”  His brother moves so fast, Dean doesn’t have time to respond before Sam is pulling him up by his shirt.

“Of course I have, but Meg wouldn’t tell me anything about it.”  The younger Winchester’s tone is dark and controlled, giving Dean a chill.  “Did someone here do that?”

 “Yes.”  The answer slips in a hush from Dean’s mouth.

Sam’s grip tightens, his hazel orbs darkening with fury, “Who?”

“Let me go. Sit down and I will tell you.  There are some major decisions you need to make, and I want you to do it calmly, not raging like you’re on steroids.”  Sam takes several deep breathes before he relents, letting Dean step back while the younger Winchester slinks onto the couch.  The hunter drops his head, staring at the floor as he leans against the wall.  He can’t look at Sam while he speaks.  “Six months ago a group of guys attacked Meg.”  Dean closes his eyes he couldn’t even use the accurate word, not to his baby brother.  “One of the men was exceptionally brutal.  He planned the whole event and did the damage to her thigh.  When he saw her on the trip, he forced her to sign a contract to keep her and Cas quiet, paying them a ton of money to do so.  Cain figured it all out, so she never broke the agreement, but he still is holding something over her and even Castiel doesn’t know what it is.”

“Dean, I want a name.”  Sam’s words are trembling, but there is an attempt at composure.

“Dick Roman.”  Silence surrounds them as his brother proceeds to gradually, and very methodically, rip apart a couch cushion.  “Crowley said if you want help burying the body, we do it tonight, otherwise Roman gets booted from the compound tomorrow morning after breakfast.”

His brother’s eyes are drifting as if in a trance.  Every muscle in his body is taught as the seething boils over.  “He… raped… my Meg?” 

“Yes.”  A tear falls to the hunter’s cheek. 

“Is Crowley going to do anything about it?”

Dean lifts his gaze because this might be helpful.  “Actually it seems Mr. and Mrs. MacLeod have a serious issue with non-consensual behavior.  By the time he gets back to the States, she will have Dick’s entire life torn to shreds.  He will have nothing.”

“Yes, I recall his wife is an extremely powerful attorney with connections to the mob.”  Sam glares at his hands for several minutes, saying nothing.  Dean knows he is weighing the options in a logical manner.  This allows Dean to relax a bit because whatever his brother chooses, it will be a sound decision.  “We let Roman go tomorrow after breakfast.  I don’t want any links to the company over a disappearance.  Then when we return to New York, we have a meeting with Hannah MacLeod about options.”

****

The next morning finds Dean, Bobby, and Sam sitting with Crowley in the dining hall, bright and early.  The rain stopped just after 8pm, so it was decided that they would leave for a six-hour hunt around 10am.  The late start allows the ground to dry more, and gives ample time to kick out the trash, and still gets the group back to change for the ball that night.  It was maybe 7am as they ate, waiting for their prey to arrive. 

The morning sunrays warm the main building as the men sit in silence sipping coffee.  Bobby gruffly asks, “So, what’s the plan here boys?’

Sam clears his throat, “Cain is watching him now.  He will follow Dick to make sure he doesn’t go near Meg’s cabin.  Once Theo, Malachi, and Roman are all here, we will kindly ask them to leave.  If they resist, we have back-up.”  The younger Winchester taps one of the three rifles under the wooden table.

Dean grunts, pissed that he lost the coin toss earlier.  One of the brothers needs to stay behind with Benny to make sure no one returns, but the other has to help Bobby guide the hunt.  Sam won so he will be staying, and Dean is forced to leave Cas for the day.  Life is so fucking unfair.  He pokes at his eggs in disgust.

Suddenly, Malachi and Theo are strolling down the breakfast buffet stuffing their plates to the brim.  The two guys take a seat at a table in the far corner of the room with a quick, “Morning.”

Over the next hour, the dining hall slowly fills with people.  Luck must be on their side, because Abaddon and Lilith sit with the two men, keeping them occupied.  Dean notices his brother go tense and his eyes follow the hazel gaze.  Meg and Castiel just entered, heading to the food line.  Sam exhales, “Shit!”

The hunter marches over to Benny, ready to give him hell for letting his charges out.  They were supposed to be having breakfast in bed.  He’s about to whisper in the bodyguard’s ear, when of fucking course, Dick Roman staggers in, fighting a wicked hangover courtesy of Cain Mullen.  “Benny, get them out of here.”

“No.”  The absolute don’t bullshit me answer coming from Meg startles both men.  “We aren’t stupid, something is going down.  You can’t send us breakfast in bed for the first time and it not seem suspicious.”

Cas bounces his head in agreement.  “What’s happening Dean?”

“We are booting Dick, Theo, and Malachi from the tour.  Now go.”  He knew there was no chance those two were going to obey, but damn it he had to try. 

“Hell no.”  Meg screeches as she shoots a fearful glance towards Roman.  “There is still shit you don’t know Dean.  Let it go, don’t make it worse.”  She’s begging him, her hands yanking on his shirt, Castiel’s sparkling blue eyes searching both Meg and Dean for clues.

The hunter swivels, realizing it’s too late.  Sam is approaching Dick with Bobby as back up.  Crowley and Cain then circle behind Malachi and Theo.  His brother’s voice is serene, “Dick Roman, as the head of Winchester Hunters, I need to politely ask you to leave the excursion, immediately.”  Jesus age Christ Dean is all kinds of impressed with his brother’s ability to look at the guy and not beat him bloody.

The dip wad has the audacity to smirk, “I don’t think so, ask your girl.  She will instill in you the importance of leaving me alone.”  Roman tilts over his gaze, landing on Meg.  Sam sidesteps to block his view, the giant’s fists beginning to twitch.  “This has nothing to do with her or Castiel.  You had an interesting conversation with Cain yesterday, and we all feel you need to leave.”

Crowley pipes up from the corner, “Yes, Dick, it’s time for us to part ways, here, and in the states.”  He turns to face Theo and Malachi, “You two as well.  The party is over boys.”

The two men stand with their hands in the air.  Malachi nonchalantly replies, “We aren’t going to cause any problems.  Thanks for the hospitality.  Mr. Roman, would you like a ride?”

Roman moves again, winking at Meg, “Thank you for the offer, but I won’t be needing one.  Meg, call this off, or those photos get sent to CPS.”

In unison, every head in the room tilts to the side as the owner contemplates what the hell CPS is.  Not surprisingly, Sam pivots partially to face his lover.  “Meg, why would Dick be sending photos to Child Protective Services?”

Tears are streaming down the young woman’s face, but not from fear.  She is bursting with rage as she screams, “That piece of shit has pictures of me with different clients from the club.  He’s planning on using it as proof that I’m a prostitute to take away my baby once it’s born.  And if that doesn’t work, he will have his friends kidnap it.”

Shock waves cause the room to freeze, except for one tiny, pregnant dancer, who sprints across the room before anyone can grab her.  Meg hauls her hand back and slaps the ever-living shit out of Dick.  Roman is about to fight back when Sam’s mind catches up, snatching the bastard’s wrists and tossing him into the closest wall.  “You don’t touch her!” Sam roars.  Dick’s body crashes to the floor as Sam jumps on him, throwing punches left and right, yelling, “You raped her!  You ripped the flesh from her thigh!  You forced her to live in fear!”  Sam’s fingers encircle Roman’s neck, squeezing blood dribbles from the asshole’s mouth and nose.  “You threatened the life of our child!”

Dean should probably stop his brother from strangling Dick, but instead, he finds himself cheering him on instead.  Bobby is the one who finally comes to his senses, “Sam stop.  You go away for murder, and who’s going to take care of your family?”

The word family is what does it.  The younger Winchester rolls off the beaten man, gasping for air and reaching for his Meg.  She goes to him willingly, his cheek falling to her abdomen, embracing Meg’s waist tightly.  Sam whispering to her tummy, “You are safe.  You are both safe.”

Dean starts when soft, long fingers interlace with his own.  His angel adding, “We are all safe.”  Castiel tips his head, resting it on the hunter’s shoulder while holding his hand.  “We are going to be uncles.”

“Damn straight!  We will be the best uncles ever!”  Dean swiftly kisses Cas’s forehead.  The comforting touch of his dancer makes everything better.

Cas nudges his arm playfully, trying to break the tension, “Perhaps straight is not the correct wording.”

The two couples watch as Bobby and Cain escort the three men from the dining hall.  Theo practically carrying Roman’s wounded body.  Crowley calls out as they leave, “Your things have been packed and are sitting by the front gate.  Don’t even think about returning.”

All parties nod in acknowledgement. 

****

The Masquerade ball started twenty minutes ago, but of course, Sam made Dean late.  His love struck brother needed his help towards the grand gesture.  He, of course, was perfectly willing to lend a hand, but now they are tardy which makes the hunter grumpy.  “Jesus Sam!  Some of us didn’t get to spend the afternoon fucking our significant other into the mattress.”

The two brothers are sprinting across the drive, heading for the dining hall.  Crowley had the caretakers transform the space into a fabulous party room.  “Meg is pregnant with my baby.  I would never fuck her into the mattress.”  Sam winks as they climb the steps into the main building, “I made love to her for hours while you went hunting with the crew.”

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

Crowley did a great job dressing the younger Winchester.  Sam is in a high-end black tux, but sans the bowtie.  Instead, the giant opted to leave three buttons undone, revealing his chest.  A little over kill, but according to Sam, Meg loves his torso.  The outfit is topped off with a silk black mask, which reminds Dean of Zorro.  The hunter, on the other hand, doesn’t exactly understand his ensemble.  A light gray suit with an emerald green, shiny tie and a simple mask adorned with jade gems. 

As soon as the brothers are in the hall, the vision of Meg steps before them.  Oh my God she is ravishing.  Her hair is pulled back in a soft ponytail.  The petite dancer’s dress is a traditional, lavender ballroom gown, which cinches tightly at her cleavage, revealing a lot.  A black mask matching Sam’s covers her face, but several purple feathers sprout from the side.  She grins, lowering to a deep curtsey, “Dean.  Sam.  You are running a little late?”

His brother lifts his lover into the air, smacking her lips with his own.  “I have a surprise for you.”

Meg giggles as Sam doesn’t let her feet touch the ground.  Dean scans the room and doesn’t see his angel.  “Where’s Cas?”

“Don’t worry, Benny is with him.  They will be arriving shortly.”  She sighs deeply, “Castiel wanted to make an entrance.” 

The hunter huffs at the thought of waiting longer to see and to touch his angel.  He taps Meg’s shoulder to get her attention.  “I’m sorry that I called you such an awful name.  Forgive me?”

“Yes of course, Dean.”  A warm smile is spreading on her painted pink lips, “As for you big man, where is my surprise?”

Sam sashays over to the center of the dance floor, nearly knocking down two couples.  The music is some boring classical piece that doesn’t even register in Dean’s mind.  The hunter feels slightly embarrassed by his baby brother’s big idea, but continues watching out of pure curiosity.  Once they hit the middle of the room, he puts Meg down and starts to unbutton his dress shirt.  Which quickly escalates into all kinds of uncoordinated ugliness, not to mention stripping to classy violin music just appears awkward and painful.  The small brunette is laughing hysterically, until she spots the black writing all over Sam’s skin.  The overgrown man doesn’t stop until he’s totally nude, every inch of his body covered in one name over and over, Meg’s.  Sam shouts so the entire party can hear, “Every piece of my body and soul belongs to you.”

The young woman’s hand delicately traces her name over Sam’s heart, down his stomach, and back to his ass cheek.  Her voice husky with want, “Mine!”

Dean chortles at how well the plan worked as the couple begins waltzing around the space.  Only in Africa, at a masquerade ball thrown by one Fergus MacLeod, would it be absolutely natural for a naked man to ballroom dance with a pretty princess in purple.

In that moment, Dean’s eye catches another gray suit, identical to his, on the opposite side of the dance floor.  The owner has his back to the hunter, speaking to Bobby at the soundboard.  The thin waist and luscious hips tell him exactly who it is, along with the messy dark raven hair.

 The song immediately changes as Castiel swivels to face Dean.  The hunter swallows, his throat suddenly dry from desire.  Cas’s clothes match Dean’s from head to toe, except his tie is a sparkling blue and the dancer’s mask is adorned with sapphires.  All the magnificent cerulean accessories cause Castiel’s orbs to practically glow like the sun dancing on the ocean.

 Every molecule in Dean’s body is shouting to connect with the breathtaking man.  The two lovers begin to circle the edge of the dance floor, gazes locked on one another.

_I’ve seen the world_

_Done it all, Had my cake now_

Cas rotates, moving in the opposite direction; Dean follows like the partner he was born to be.  The hunter continues to track and mirror every graceful movement of his prey.  His hands quake with need to caress his angel’s skin.  Castiel saunters forward into the heart of the arena.  Then the dancer raises his arms in a perfect stance, waiting for his love to fill the empty chasm. 

_Will you still love me?_

_When I’m no longer young and beautiful?_

Dean reaches his Cas, the hunter’s hands sliding into position.  A loving smile plays across his angel’s face as the green masked man takes the lead, guiding his boyfriend across the floor.  The rest of the world disappears to some faraway place.  Castiel is the center of Dean’s universe, now and forever.  No one will ever compare to the mind-blowing sexy angel. 

_Oh that grace, Oh that body_

_Oh that face make me wanna party_

_He’s my sun, He makes me shine like diamonds_

The hunter snickers because there isn’t a single diamond that could hold a candle to the gorgeous shimmer of Cas.  The two men twirl, completely attuned to the other’s movement.  Dean spins his partner, watching Castiel’s grin shine brighter than the stars.

_Will you still love me?_

_When I’m no longer beautiful?_

On the final chorus, the hunter dips his kind angel, placing his mouth onto those velvety smooth lips.  The heroin-like rush from the touch attacks all of Dean’s senses, making him feel dizzy.  Yet, in that second, the two lovers have found a unified choice as their mouths gradually open.  Dean’s tongue wanders out, tasting Cas, directly from the source for the first time.  The kiss deepens, their swiping tongues melding into a single movement.  It’s not until the hunter’s lungs are crying out for oxygen that he pulls back, but only slightly.  They both pant heavily, green and blue astray in their own personal storm of lust.  Finally, Dean brings Castiel upright, but holds on for dear life.

In a deep, gravelly tone that speaks directly to Dean’s crotch, Cas asks, “Will you still love me when I’m no longer beautiful?”

“Trick question.”  Castiel cocks one eyebrow, in a dominant glare as Dean finishes his reply.  “You will always be beautiful to me.”

Their lip’s falling back into a passionate kiss. 


	19. Hide Me by Winterpills

 

Dean has no idea how they made it back to the cabin.  His mind flooded with so many sensations, his brain not able to comprehend anything beyond soft, long fingers, velvet lips, and a wickedly talented tongue doing amazing things to his libido.  But here he is, standing dead center of their cabin, his hands cupping a scruffy chin.  His lungs are forcing him to pause every other minute for oxygen, but only for a gasp of air before diving right back in.  Dean Winchester could die of a heart attack in this exact moment and be perfectly happy.  The little squeaks of pleasure leaking from Cas’s throat are adding an entirely new level of desire.

Unexpectedly, his angel’s fingers are tugging at Dean’s green tie, the masks and suit jackets tossed to the couch ages ago.  The hunter returns the gesture, allowing Cas to set the pace.  When nimble digits unbutton his white dress shirt, Dean just mirrors the actions.  The two men are now naked from the waist up, their lips never pausing in the luscious assault. 

It’s only when Cas’s body trembles as he grasps the hunter’s belt buckle that Dean staggers back.  His angel is sporting some serious sex hair, and his blue orbs have darkened with lust, but this seems off.  “Cas?”

“Take your clothes off Dean.”  The dancer kicks off his shoes.

The hunter puts his hands in a T formation.  “Time out for a minute Cas,” his lover’s arms are shaking so badly he can barely grasp his own fly.

“Why?”

“Because your body is one massive tremor.  Sorry to inform you, but that’s a turn off of mine.”

Castiel’s arms fall to the side as he inhales deeply.  “Can’t we just push through this part?”

“What?!? Umm No.”  His lovely angel appears lost as a teardrops to his cheek.  Dean moves closer, wipes the moisture away, and takes Cas’s hands into his own.  “What’s going on Cas?  Talk to me.”

The dancer tilts his forehead so it’s touching Dean’s.  “I talked with Gadreel today.”

Normally that wouldn’t be cause for alarm.  Cas has spoken to his brother several times over the trip, but typically, it brightens his mood.  Dean just gazes into sparkling sapphires, giving his angel time to collect his thoughts before continuing.

“The appeal failed.  Nick was released from prison yesterday.”

“Shit.”  Dean’s not really known for eloquent speeches, but he hopes that Cas understands the sentiment.  Gabriel and Gadreel were fighting the release with everything they had.  In fact, Nick should have been freed days ago, but the Novak family had been granted a special meeting with the parole board.  Clearly, it had not gone well.

Castiel’s tone was so low Dean could barely hear him.  “I just want you to erase him from my skin.”

“Cas, what does that mean exactly?”  The hunter is willing to do anything to help his angel, but he feels clear, defined boundaries need to be in place.

The dancer’s knees buckle so quickly that Dean almost misses catching him.  He places Castiel on the floor with the angel’s back leaning on the bed, and kneels before him, listening intently.  “I want you to touch every inch of me.  No matter how many baths I take, it’s like the memory of him on… me won’t disappear.”  Cas’s voice hitches as sobs pour from his lips.  “The trembling has nothing to do with you, Dean, and everything to do with Nick.  I promise, just help me… please.”

The tears are more than Dean can bare as he tries to think of what to do.  “I need parameters here.  How much do you want me to touch?”

“Everything.”  Cas tucks his face into his hands, blocking Dean’s favorite view.  He’s still crying, but it does seem better.  A little whimper escapes Castiel’s throat before, “maybe not… my ass area.”

“Got it, no butt grabbing.  And the crotch region?”

He’s pretty sure Castiel is blushing.  However, he requires very detailed no-fly zones for this to work.  Dean remains still, letting the angel decide.  “Would it be okay, if maybe I’m on my stomach?  Then you can just have one spot to avoid?”

“Less to remember always works best for me.  Now what kind of touch?”  Dean’s brain is a buzz of ideas, but this is not about him.  Well, admitting it only to himself, this might be a little about him.

“Fingers.  Definitely fingers and hands, also I really enjoy feeling your breath on me.  Perhaps just that for tonight.”  His angel lifts his face, a faint smile building on his stunning mouth.

Dean jerks his head in agreement, rising to his feet.  He toes out of his dress shoes, then pauses, “How naked am I getting for this?” 

“Completely, but let me undress you.”  Castiel falls back on the rug, yanking off his pants and socks in one sweep, leaving just a pair of navy boxers.  His angel crawls over to the hunter, little by little, and Dean can’t help it as his cock swells to capacity.  The blue-eyed lover stays on his knees, his fingers moving with more confidence now.  Going painstakingly slow, Cas removes Dean’s clothes leaving the hunter naked with a raging boner.  His dick is practically pointing at Castiel.  The angel’s face is not even an inch from the tip.  Those heavenly, cobalt orbs are locked onto Dean’s dick, making the poor man all kinds of uncomfortable.  “Can I try something Dean?”

“Yes.”  Jesus Christ his voice just went up a handful of octaves, cracking like a pre-teen in the process.  The hunter is attempting to breathe because right now, his brain is shutting down entirely.

Sapphire gems crash onto Dean’s emerald orbs as time halts.  Castiel’s beautiful pink tongue slithers out, taking a tiny lick up the shaft of his cock.  The hunter’s fists are balled tight, his fingernails ripping into the flesh of his palm, yet somehow Dean keeps his wits, never stirring.  The beautiful raven-haired man yanks down his boxers, placing those delicate fingers on his own cock, pumping swiftly. 

A guttural groan escapes the hunter’s mouth as Cas wraps those silky lips around the very tip of his cock.  Dean sees stars burst from his eyes as the angel sucks.  “Cas, I’m going to finish pretty fucking fast here.”  He battles with each word as Castiel continues his warm, dizzying assault on his dick. 

“Me too.”  His lover spits out, his tongue lapping at Dean’s dick.  Castiel quickens the stroking of his own member as he simultaneously increases the suction on the hunter’s erection.

Without warning, Dean’s skin is on fire as the familiar sensation of a building orgasm pulses through his crotch.  “Damn it Cas, I’m going to cum on your face.”

“Good.”  The mumbling of that one word on his excessively sensitive crotch sends Dean over the edge, as he cums down Cas’s throat.  In that same moment, the dancer shoots his jizz onto the floor as he attempts to cry out in pleasure with Dean’s cock still in his mouth.

“Son of a Bitch!”  Dean screams his gaze focuses on Castiel slurping down the load without losing a drop.

 Cas wipes his mouth with the back of his palm, and tugs his boxers into place before ambling over to the bed and climbing on top.  “My turn.”  The dancer winks as he drops on his stomach with a thud.

“Seriously Cas,” Dean rubs his forehead, trying to keep a coronary at bay.  “You are going to be the death of me.”

“Touch me.”  His magnificent boyfriend stretches out his arm, beckoning Dean to him with one finger.  “Please.”

There is no way fucking way that Dean needs to be told twice.  He trips over his own feet, knocking his head on the bed as he crashes to the ground.  “I’m okay.”  The hunter calls out, his face still planted on the floor.

The bedroom floods with the sound of laughing.  Full belly, hysterical giggling, and it makes Dean’s heart burst with delight.  If he could bottle the amazing noise of his lover at this moment, he would make a million dollars.  Finally, Dean pops up meeting Cas’s face, but the dancer can’t stop chuckling to speak a single word.

“Well now that I have killed the mood and embarrassed the shit out of myself, I’ll just go find the closest wild animal to eat me.”

“Dean.”  The heavily, lust filled tone returns as Cas pleas with him.  “Don’t be a tease.  And frankly the laughter has helped me relax, considerably.”

“My plan the whole time,” the comment just gets another wave of snickering from his angel.  Dean kneels on the bed next to Cas, who is still giggling.  “Dude this is supposed to be all sexy and shit.  I can’t pull out my Don Juan moves with you laughing at me.”

“It just reminded me of your first time on a pole, when you fell flat on your face.”  This mental image now has the angel doubled over, hooting as he wheezes, struggling for air.

“Un-cool Cas, totally un-cool.”  The mood is utterly different from before; however, Dean can’t figure out if that’s really a problem.  The love of his life is gushing with joy.  The hunter is grinning and both men are calm.  Instead of waiting for Cas to get his act together, Dean tilts over, puts his lips together, and blows.

A little kitten purr blossoms from the man below him.  He takes this as encouragement, running his breath up and down the dancer’s spine.  Dean notices goose bumps developing behind the puff of air.  Oh, he can totally work with that. 

First, he slants forwards checking on Cas’s face, making sure he is still tranquil and happy.  He swiftly kisses his angel’s temple with a grin.  Then gradually he begins at Castiel’s left wrist, ghosting his way up the man’s beautifully sculpted arm, always making sure to keep his own body to the side and never caging his angel.  Dean uses his breath to blow on the skin, then traces behind, caressing the erupting bumps with his fingers.  When he reaches the angel’s shoulders, he pays extra attention to Cas’s neck, receiving another round of giggles.  Honestly, it’s probably the cutest thing on the planet and he is privileged to be the source of his lover’s joy.  The hunter crisscrosses over his dancer’s back, skipping the navy boxer area.  With every touch, Dean can sense his Castiel relaxing into his hands.  The older man is high as a kite, drifting off into euphoria with all the skin on skin contact. 

Once every inch of Cas has been worshipped, Dean lies down next to him.  The hunter places himself so their shoulders are rubbing, keeping constant contact.  His gaze lifts until he finds his favorite shade of blue.  “Thank you, Dean.”  Castiel’s tone is gentle and endearing.  “I love you.”

“I love you, Cas.  There is nothing I won’t do for you.”

His kind angel’s expression darkens, “he will find me.”

It takes a beat before Dean’s lust sated brain catches up to the conversation, “Oh.  I think I’m first on his hit list.”

“That’s not funny.”  Cas fights a little grin on his mouth.  “He probably does have an actual list.”

“Look, you and I are permanent.  He can leave you the hell alone, or deal with me.  I’m done with his shit.”

Cas nervously chews on his lower lip.  “Even you will not be able to protect me every minute of every day.”

“Sure I can.  I will be officially unemployed soon, so my schedule is free.”  Dean reaches forward, tugging Cas’s lip from his teeth because it was going to bleed soon.  “Don’t destroy those.  They are connected to the love of my life.”

The hunter leans into a soft kiss.  Cas guides Dean as their mouths open, letting their tongues tenderly intertwine into a dance.

****

Dean is packing the SUV, double and triple checking that all the supplies and guns are properly stored.  Today, the group is leaving the compound, heading to their final hunting location on the Eastern Cape.  The rest of the excursion will be driving three hours back to Johannesburg and boarding a small plane for a 90-minute flight to Port Elizabeth.  It’s only an hour drive north from the port to the Eastern Cape, and the private ranch, which will house them for six days. 

However, Dean hates flying in strong, powerful Boeing 747’s, but he will NEVER fly in one of those tiny hopper jets.  Hell fucking no!  So while the others will arrive at their destination tonight, Dean and Cas will pull in late tomorrow after driving for two days.  Crowley only allows this little detour because it’s easier to transport the hunting rifles than trying to check them through the airport for such a short flight.

The hunter has always enjoyed this part of the trip, driving up the African coast the windows down, and Motorhead blaring from the speakers.  This year will be a little different as he is blessed with a drop dead gorgeous co-pilot.  It’s just after six in the morning, and Cas was conscious long enough to throw on a t-shirt and jeans, and then stagger out to the Land Rover like a drunk guy.  His amazing angel is NOT a morning person. 

Dean’s going back to their cabin one last time when he has to chuckle to himself.  Cas’s dark, disheveled hair is plastered against the window, his cheek spread out across the glass as drool dribbles down his chin.  The hunter curses the lack of cameras, because this is truly a Kodak moment.  He can’t help pitching forward, kissing the window with a smirk.  Dean wishes that he could always keep Castiel tucked in a safe car where no one can hurt him. 

“Did you just kiss the glass?”  Sam ambles over scratching his ridiculously long locks.

“No!”  Dean turns away from the vehicle to face his brother the giant.  “I thought I saw something.”

The younger Winchester glances over at Castiel’s dozing form, “Other than your boyfriend snoring?  That position can’t be comfortable.”

“Never mind him, what do you need?”

“Nothing really, just seeing you off.  Do you have your satellite phone with the back-up battery?”

He rolls his eyes with a huff, “Of course.  I’m not about to drive across the Savanna without it.”

The brothers share a hasty hug before Dean climbs into the driver side and heads out into the wilds of Africa.

A few hours later, the sun is full and Cas is just beginning to stir.  The roads are bumpy to nonexistent on this part of the trip, so the poor dancer is bouncing everywhere.  “How long have I been asleep?”

“Like three hours, but your snoring kept me company” Dean winks, glimpsing at the disgruntled man next to him.

Cas huffs, “I do not snore.  Holy crap is that a zebra?”

“Yes, they have zebras in Africa.”  The hunters tone dripping in sarcasm.

“You don’t have to be an assbutt.”  The dancer is digging the sleep goo from his eyes.

Dean’s rolls his shoulders as the last word strikes him.  “Assbutt?  Like is that even a thing you call someone?  It’s like yelling hey boobtits or cockpenis or …”

“That’s plenty, Dean, I get the idea.” They sit in silence for a while, and then Cas ponders aloud, “I don’t want to be defenseless.”

The hunter pats the weapon in his thigh holster.  “You aren’t defenseless Cas, you’ve got me.”

“But…” He can tell that Cas is trying to ask him something, so Dean patiently waits for his angel to form a sentence.  “There will come a time in my life when you can’t be right next to me.  I want to learn how to use that.”  His angel leans over tapping the gun with his finger lightly.

He peers out the windshield, deciding this spot will work.  “Okay.”  Dean parks the SUV, climbing out and waving for Cas to follow.

“I didn’t mean right this second.”

“No time like the present, Cas.”  He moves to the rear of the vehicle, raising the back gate and retrieving a small revolver.  “Sam likes to use this for target practice with some of the daintier clientele.”

Castiel stomps his foot at the implication, “I am not dainty!”

“Let’s use beginner then.”  The hunter passes the weapon to Cas, showing him the safety and how to load the weapon. 

“What the hell do I do with it now?”  His angel is swinging the deadly handgun around, giving no real thought behind the action.  Out of pure instincts, Dean hits the deck crashing to the ground with a loud grunt.  “Why are you on the ground?  You keep falling down a lot lately, are you ill?”

“I am trying not to get shot, Cas.  That gun is loaded with the safety off.”

The raven-haired man exhales loudly with snicker, “Get up and show me how to shoot.”

“Can I touch you?”  He’s brushing the dirt from his clothes as he hastily dashes behind Castiel.

“Please do.  Although I appreciate you asking.”

Dean grins as he slides his fingers up his angel’s arms, linking all four hands around the revolver.  God this feels remarkable, having Castiel wrapped in his arms.  He can’t help but tilt in and sniff the dancer’s neck.

“Did you just smell me?”

“Hell yes I did and I’ll do it again.”  Dean digs his nose deeper into Cas’s collarbone inhaling dramatically, “You’re scent is incredible.”

“Well I appreciate your aroma as well, Dean, but we aren’t dogs, so can we get on with it.”

The hunter chuckles as he spends the next hour teaching Cas to shoot in the breathtaking, green, lush landscape.  It takes a while, but the lesson is full of laughter and smiles.  When the handgun is properly stowed away with the other weapons, Dean snatches a kiss from his angel.  However, as the hunter pulls away, Castiel yanks him back in as the kiss deepens with a dark thirst that can only be quenched with a lot less clothing.  In the end, the two men part, panting uncontrollably as they try to replenish lost oxygen to their brains. 

Cas cups the hunter’s chin smirking, “Best boyfriend in the world.”

This will always be one of Dean’s favorite memories of Africa.


	20. Breathe Me by Sia

 

Castiel is literally rolling on the floor, laughing his ass off. Meg is next to him hooting even louder than he is. The view before them is fucking hilarious. They are in the formal dining room of the massive ranch that currently houses the tour. Dean and Cas arrived late last night, so tonight will be the first time he and Meg perform. The room is huge, with a hardwood table that seats 20 and elaborately carved chairs to match. A hand crafted, stunning fireplace that the dancer can actually stand in sits at one end, glass French doors that open out to an extensive courtyard along the other.

There is; however, no place to construct a stage, so Meg and Cas have chosen to use the long banquet style table as their platform. The crew was sitting around said table, having breakfast before heading out to hunt, when Meg mentioned the secondary use. This set to blaze a very heated discussion on whether the piece of furniture was structurally sound to hold them safely.

It seems the rules have changed now that everyone is aware of Meg’s condition. Crowley has been very clear to both Cas and his dance partner. Castiel has to continue working, yet if the pregnant woman needs to stop for any reason, she will still be paid in full. Meg took that as a challenge and returned the comment with an evil, cocky glare that could have set the Scottish man on fire.

This has all led to four grown men prancing on the table to test its ability to hold the dancers. Originally, Sam and Dean climbed on top to jump around checking for weaknesses, followed by Crowley and Cain, because if it didn’t break with them on it, it wouldn’t break holding only Meg and Castiel. Meg’s precious cargo was secure. Once they were up there, Cas couldn’t help but to harass them saying how dancing was significantly more dangerous than jumping.

Castiel can barely pull in a breath of air he is laughing so hard, as Dean, Sam, Crowley, and Cain actually re-enact their best stripper moves. Although, the dancer has a bit of pride swelling in his gut because his boyfriend looks pretty good, especially compared to the other three.

God, he would give anything for a dollar bill right now, but he hasn’t carried US currency since landing in Africa. Instead, he calms the hysterics, sauntering over to the table, beckoning his hunter over. Dean obeys like a good boy, tilting over so he can pay him with a lustful kiss.

“Hot Damn, Cas.” Dean exclaims as he breaks for air.

The dancer winks, “Hot indeed, Mr. Winchester.”

With that, he swiftly exits via the French doors, making sure his hips sway dramatically. Cas doesn’t need to turn around; he knows emerald eyes track his departure.

He can hear Sam gathering everyone up and guiding them to the vehicles to depart for the day. Castiel barely makes it halfway into the courtyard garden when Benny yells, “Castiel, you gotta wait. Meg’s saying her goodbyes to Sam, and then we will all head over.”

Cas nods in agreement, as he sits down near a bed of red flowers. The ranch really is beautiful. The main house is two stories with ten bedrooms. The walls are dark wood paneling, and dead animals hang throughout the palatial home. It is the ideal vision of a hunter’s cabin.

A simple guesthouse sits to the south of the building, on the opposite side of a vast courtyard, which has a flower garden, a vegetable patch, and fishpond. The small cottage in the back only has three bedrooms, but it’s perfect for Dean, Cas, Sam, Meg, and Benny. There is a small kitchen and living space with a massive wooden deck. The dancer’s soon-to-be favorite spot is the porch swing. Maybe when Dean gets home they can try it out. To the east of the courtyard is an old barn with three horses for riding, and to the west is a circular fenced area for the animals to run free. A high privacy fence runs the entire perimeter of the ranch. This location has a lot more security precautions then the previous spots on the trip, letting everyone put their guard down.

Meg slumps down next to him, sighing, “Is this heaven? Are we dead?”

“What makes you think that when we die they will let us into heaven?” Cas yanks at the grass under him. Benny heads over to the porch swing for a piece of shade.

“True, not to mention in my ideal world, you can hug me.” He hears the sadness in her voice, and it’s heartbreaking. Cas isn’t oblivious to the fact that his developing ability to touch Dean hurts her. They have been friends for twenty years. Meg is many things to him, but she’s not Dean. Castiel is convinced she understands, but that doesn’t mean it’s not painful. “I know you set certain goals for yourself. Can I make a request?”

The dancer pivots to face the tiny woman. “Of course Meg.”

“You will hold my baby when it’s born.” At that moment, Cas would have preferred being stabbed through the heart than listen to the plea in her tone. “Don’t worry about me, just touch, and love the kid.” Meg stands up, plucking a flower before strolling into the guesthouse.

“I can try.” She doesn’t hear him; nevertheless, it’s an aspiration he will strive for with will all his might.

****

After dusk, Castiel and Meg find comfortable spots on the porch outside of the French doors, waiting for dinner to end. The two dancers ate in the guesthouse with Benny, and then got ready before crossing the courtyard. Cas enjoys having the separation. He wishes Sam and Dean could join them, but unfortunately, they have to entertain the guests.

The group in the cottage definitely prefers this new set of ‘friends’ to the last ones. It seems that Crowley dropped the old additions before they reached the airport, and made a completely new set when they landed. It’s a smaller crowd, being that the ranch can only accommodate so many people. Castiel glances through the window, counting maybe half a dozen strange faces. So far, they have kept away from he and Meg, but today is the first time they will see the dancers naked. That always puts certain ideas into people’s minds. He swivels to pace a little, his gaze resting on the bodyguard. It really doesn’t matter because Benny never leaves their sides.

The dancer tugs at his costume wishing he was able to wear underwear, but that would ruin the effect. He tried to remind Meg as they got ready that his parts didn’t tuck as easily as hers did. He and Meg have several strips of ribbon, covering their lower naughty bits like a present. In fact, the ribbon they used was three-inch gift-wrapping fabric from a spool. Each dancer has four separate colors, dark grey, deep purple, royal blue, and a pale cream that were tied independent of the others. Basically, the end result gives the impression that they are wearing mini-skirts and topless. His partner’s hair is curly and free flowing, matching his already chaotic raven hair.

Bobby throws open the doors, which is their cue to begin. Meg and Castiel place themselves in the threshold of the room, pausing to allow the music to play. A staff member for the ranch has cleared the plates from the meal, leaving a freshly washed surface. The audience for the evening has pushed their chairs against the walls, a few of them choosing to stand by the fire that is currently blazing high. Cas scans the room searching for green eyes. He finds the emerald orbs near the other door, grinning. The dancer is discovering how much his lover appreciates his craft.

The soft melody pours into the dining hall. Meg raises her arms spinning out gracefully to the beat. Cas remains still until she is halfway down the space, and then he mirrors her movements.

_Help, I have done it again_

_I have been here many times before_

Once they are both positioned at opposite ends of the lengthy table, they sit their bottoms on the wood, spinning with their feet held out in almost a V shape. Swiftly, in unison, they rise to their feet, holding an arabesque for eight counts then releasing into a double pirouette. They repeat the actions until the two dancers meet in the middle.

_Be my friend, hold me_

_Wrap me up, unfold me_

Each dancer takes their right hand, grasping the edge of ribbon at their hip spinning away, the dark grey layer leaving their skin. Gradually they return to the center, using the dark grey ribbon as a flag, flipping the fabric into the air.

_Yeah, I think that I might break_

_Lost myself again and I feel unsafe_

When they reach each other, Meg and Cas tilt forward, their lips almost touching, but instead their fingers free dark purple material. The two dancers swivel back-to-back, dropping into handstands, their legs plunging into perfect splits prior to finding the middle once again.

_Warm me up and breathe me_

Liberating the royal blue ribbon, they each snatch an end creating a tug of war between the two dancers. Jerking harshly, they break free, twisting so they tumble to the table into a forward roll, and then applying the momentum to pull into another arabesque. Meg and Cas take off towards one another, leaping while crossing each other in mid-air and landing on the opposing side.

_Warm me up and breathe me_

Castiel seizes the final cream ribbon in his left hand as he rises to another handstand, the fabric falls on its own accord, drifting to the wooden table. As the last rifts of the song play the two naked dancers thrust to their knees taking the strips of ribbon swaying to the music.

****

Exhaustion envelopes Castiel as he follows Benny and Meg back to their cottage. Its past midnight, and the Winchester boys are certainly snoring away by now. The ribbon routine was well liked, even though it was more artistic than raunchy. Overall, this new place is turning out better than expected.

Cas waves his goodnights to everyone as he sneaks into his bedroom. The space is quiet, just the rise and fall of someone breathing. He smirks at the gentle sound, tip toeing towards the bathroom for a shower.

The dancer startles at Dean’s voice slicing into the silence, “Hey Cas. Come here.”

“You should be sleeping.” Castiel implores a mocking tone to his reply. He lounges onto the edge of the bed, “And I need a shower.”

Dean pats the empty spot next to him, bouncing his eyebrows. “Snuggling is way more important than a shower.”

“Fine.” He shoves off with a fake exasperated tone. Cas’s mouth is the first to touch skin as he kisses his way up from the hunter’s clavicle to his puffy, pink, perfect lips. Gradually their mouths open, giving space for their tongues to wander. Dean tastes like sunshine; warm, bright, soul-calming beauty. The two men collapse to the mattress, side by side, their fingers exploring with tender touches. Every time Dean’s glorious hands caress the dancer’s skin, it’s electrifying. God, Castiel falls more in love with Dean with each passing second.

He wants more. Despite the desire, Cas doesn’t know what that really means. More what? The dancer and his hunter have practically moved mountains to get where they are now. Dean appears content with their baby steps, but it’s as if a dam has broken, flooding Castiel’s body with intense raw lust. He is naked, never having put any clothes on after the performance, and Dean is in a grey pair of boxer briefs. The dancer slinks his body closer to Dean’s so there is skin on skin contact from head to toe. His strong hunter releases a low growl, appreciating the new position.

The kissing is passionate, full of tongue, teeth, and panting. Cas is dizzy from all the sensations combined with the lack of oxygen to his brain. He makes a snap judgment as the dancer shoves Dean onto his back, Castiel lurching forward, placing his body on top of the hunter. Clearly, the green-eyed man enjoys the move as he shouts, “Oh my God, yes Cas!”

Not much more can be said as their lips smash on to one another, Cas not losing even a second. This new physical arrangement is magnificent because his hard dick grinds harshly against Dean’s member. “Fuuuuuuuuck!” The two men yell in unison.

So much skin. Castiel is truly astray in miles and miles of silky smooth skin speckled with freckles. Dean keeps his hands to the agreed upon areas, so the dancer takes it upon himself to slide his hand down, freeing his lover’s rod. The two cocks thrash vigorously, crashing together as he uses his palm to pump them as one.

Any coherent thought has left the building, lost to the maddening hunger for more. Castiel jerks Dean towards him, and in one swift motion, places the other man on top of the dancer. In a matter of seconds, the nightmares of the angel’s past come blaring to the forefront of his thoughts. The weight of his lover pushing his frame into the sheets below causes panic to throttle his entire soul. An animalistic scream of pure terror rips from Castiel’s throat as his body quakes so brutally it makes his teeth ache, causing both erections to dwindle immediately.

Dean is off him so fast he barely sees the man move. The hunter hunches over on the far corner of the bed, desperately attempting to calm his ragged breath. In between deep inhales, “Cas… what’s… wrong?”

Tears stream from his disoriented, ocean blue eyes. He wishes he could find the words, but his mind is trapped in a vision of Lucifer. The heartless, cold laugh tickling in his ear as Satan slams inside Castiel. The sick monster is savoring each cry for help and every tear as though they were being exchanged for gold. Cas is teetering on the edge of oblivion when a voice calls him back, “Breathe.”

The dancer shakes his head, clearing the cobwebs and torturous memories as he hears the voice of his love, “Cas, breathe baby, please.”

It’s not what’s being said, but the sound of Dean alone that forces him to drag a deep inhale into his lungs. Slowly, Castiel comes back to reality listening to his hunter’s confident words, “In… Out… In… Out… Good. Please, my angel, come back to me. Breathe.”

Once the dancer has calmed, Dean resumes his spot next to him, leaving a cavern of space. “I am so sorry Dean. Why can’t I get better?”

“Stop Cas. Look at me.” Sparkling sapphires dance into emerald orbs finding solace. “It’s fine. This is going to happen, right. One step forward two steps back.”

Castiel digs at his eyes, swiping away the moisture left from his panic attack. “I’m sorry, so sorry.”

“Quit apologizing Cas it’s no big deal.”

“Why?” He doesn’t understand why Dean isn’t so frustrated with the broken angel that he leaves in a fit of anger.

Using one finger, the hunter strokes his chin lovingly, “because I am not kidding when I say this is permanent. There is absolutely no reason to rush because we, we are forever.”

“I love you, Dean.” This amazing man has the patience of a saint, and one day, Cas will overcome all this crap and truly be with his hunter.

“I love you too. Now, it’s late and some of us have to be up early to kill things.” They both release tension giggling at the joke but so much more.

His boyfriend tugs an extra pillow from under the bed, placing it between the two men. Cas’s eyes go wide with shock, “Just for tonight angel. Give me your hand.”

The dancer places his hand into Dean’s as he rests their interlocking palms on the fluffy white barricade. He wishes things were different, but recognizes that for tonight, two steps back is best. In no time at all, they are sound asleep.

****

Castiel’s eyelids fly open with a start. The bedroom is bright as the full morning sun drenches the space through the two windows. He glances around the room, curious as to what woke him. The dancer was having a fabulous dream of a little commitment ceremony with a very specific green-eyed hunter. Ghosting his hand over Dean’s side of the bed, which is of course empty. His sweet lover left hours ago. Cas’s fingers brush over a sheet of paper, so he brings it up to read the handwritten note.

_My Gorgeous Angel,_

_One step forward and two steps back is our own personal dance. Doesn’t really matter where we go, as long as my hand always remains in yours._

_Smile. I love you,_

_Dean_

“Damn that man.” Cas folds the paper carefully tucking it into his suitcase. This is something to show the grandkids one day. Jesus, what is with him this morning? Castiel picks a slightly worn pair of jeans and as he tugs the denim over his hips, he hears a blood-curdling scream. Not the kind of cry over a spider, but unadulterated fear. He crawls over to the door, cracking it open just a tad, peeking out. The dancer covers his mouth to stifle his own yelp. Benny’s body is lying unconscious on the floor, and Meg’s door is wide open.

Without a doubt, the next shriek comes from the lungs of his best friend.


	21. Fight Song by Rachel Platten

* * *

 

Castiel throws on his sneakers, praying that everyone is alive. He then slinks out of the bedroom on his hands and knees, pausing to check on Benny. The bodyguard has a pretty wicked bruise forming on his temple, but the man is breathing, so that’s a plus. Cas’s hand grazes the satellite phone. The battery has been removed, and lays shattered on the floor. However, the cell itself seems perfectly fine. Quickly, Castiel decides that reaching back up is a priority. The dancer has no clue who took Meg, but getting a search party back here asap could save two lives. He dashes back to the bed he shares with Dean, shoving his arm under the mattress. “Bingo.”

Thank the Lord for Dean Winchester’s paranoia because a fully charged battery is now in the dancer’s possession. He fixes the phone, and then hits speed dial #1. He knows it will be either Dean, Bobby, or Sam that answers.

“What’s up Benny?” A cheery sunny voice answers on the second ring.

It may not be Dean, but definitely second best, “Sam?”

“Cas? Is everything okay?”

Perhaps this would have been easier if Dean or Bobby had taken the call. Castiel is sprinting out of the cottage, his eyes searching for his friend. “No. Someone has taken Meg.”

Yes, he could have sugar coated it, but really now is not the time. The normally laid back Winchester is screaming his reply, “What do you mean taken? Where is she? Where is Benny?”

“Benny was struck on the head and is currently unavailable.” The dancer’s gaze catches movement over by the circular fenced area. A tall man has Meg over his shoulder while another one holds open the side gate. Castiel recognizes them immediately, “It looks like Theo and Malachi are attempting to kidnap her.”

“Stop them, Castiel!” Sam’s tone is dark and angry. “I don’t care what it takes, you stop those fuckers. We are 45 minutes from the ranch. I will see you in twenty.”

Cas doesn’t even respond. He ends the call, placing the phone on the edge of the porch as he runs towards his friend and her soon-to-be captors. He approaches the man watching as Meg kicks at her abductor. Silver duct tape binds her mouth and wrists. Theo must have halted to shush her screams, allowing Castiel the time to reach them. Malachi spots Cas as he waves his arms, wildly shouting to his accomplice, “Behind you!”

There isn’t time to think, much less panic. Castiel must make a life-altering decision now. The dancer doesn’t have a weapon, only his body, and unfortunately, the thought of hand-to-hand combat terrifies him. Theo is huge, maybe not Sam big, but unquestionably larger than Cas. Yet, if they make it to the vehicle that is most likely on the other side of the security fence Meg, and her child, could be lost forever.

That simple thought causes him to snap, losing Meg will never happen. The dancer pumps his legs harder, speeding up his pace. Theo’s escape is slowed by the tiny woman’s thrashing. He can do this, there is no other choice. Meg entered the home of a mad man to save him from torture and possibly death. Now it’s time for Cas to repay the courage that she showed him. In seconds, he closes the gap, his mind releasing a mantra, ‘take the bastard down’. Castiel doesn’t have to subdue him totally, just stall the kidnappers until help arrives. Surely he’s strong enough to accomplish that task.

So as he comes a mere foot or two from Theo’s back, Castiel launches himself into the air. Connecting his shoulder into the spine of the assailant, tackling the taller man to the dirt. Meg hurtles off to the side, immediately battling to remove her shackles. The dancer is lost in a fit of rage, his eyesight washes over in red. Castiel tosses Theo onto his back. This gives Cas access to the kidnapper’s face, but he doesn’t see dark brown orbs with a deep scar. No, Castiel’s vision is filled with the memories of Lucifer.  He pummels into Theo’s cheeks, chin, anywhere his fists can make contact. With every hit, the broken angel shouts increase in volume, “No means no! Stop means stop! You worthless piece of shit! No more!”

His knuckles feel as though they are on fire, his body is trembling but from fury. Blood is spraying and Castiel doesn’t fucking care if it’s his or the guy under him. “I am not a hole!” He hears loud obnoxious sobbing, unaware that his eyes are dripping profusely. “I am not a plaything or a toy! I AM NOT YOUR BOY! My name is Castiel, you asshole!”

The raven-haired beauty only halts when soft, delicate fingers wrap around his wrists as Meg whispers, “It’s okay Cas. We are all fine.”

Meg is touching him. BUT there is no reaction except for his body soothing under her caress. The moment ends too quickly as a shot rings out and a bullet hits the ground next to them. Cas and Meg glance over to the open side gate, noticing that Malachi has a gun pointed at them as he yells, “You two are coming with us. I don’t get paid until the bodies are delivered. He said dead was fine.”

Obviously, that is not an option. There is no movement from Theo. Castiel surmises he may have beaten the man into a coma or an early grave, yet can’t find it in himself to care. He lowers his voice so only Meg can hear him, “On three we run.”

“Castiel, I twisted my ankle in the fall. I can’t.” Cas glimpses down, spotting the swelling and bruising that quickly appears.

Malachi fires the gun into the dirt yelling, “Get over here, now. I won’t ask twice.”

Both he and Meg jump from the noise, the woman yelping in surprise. Cas slips his hand into hers, causing Meg’s eyes to go wide. He grins at his best friend, not an ounce of fear exists, and the dancer is in complete control. Castiel winks as he speaks in a serene tone, “On three, just go with it.”

“I trust you.” Meg replies as she squeezes his palm.

They don’t need to make it far, just to a strong door that will hold. Cas remembers that the main kitchen has a pantry with a solid, old steel door. He recalls Cain mentioning that it once housed the weaponry for the ranch. Castiel swivels to face the man with the gun, pleading, “Meg has injured her ankle. I will need to carry her.”

“Fine, whatever. You can move her to the truck, then comeback for sleeping beauty.” Malachi is certainly a well-trained hunter because as he speaks, he lowers the gun to his side. It will give Cas a few extra seconds, but then again, that also means he is an excellent shot.

“Put your arms around my neck.” The look Meg gives him would be hilarious in any other situation. It’s a mix of shock, confusion, and are you stupid? “Do it Meg.”

She obeys as the dancer stands, lifting her so that Meg’s legs can wrap around his waist, their bodies entangling front to front. A whimper escapes her throat as he adjusts her frame in his arms. “I’m hugging you.”

“Let’s revel in the moment after we all survive.” It is a true blessing that even pregnant she weighs maybe a 100 pounds. The angel smiles at the memory of tossing her high into the air back in school. Meg is tiny, but this isn’t going to be easy. “IF I die, you better name this kid Castiel, regardless of gender.”

“Pretty sure after this your name hits the top of the list no matter what.”

Castiel’s focus returns to Malachi, who is suddenly distracted by something outside of the fence. That’s his cue for sure as Cas races towards the door to the kitchen. His arms are tight around Meg as Castiel’s legs burn from the abuse. Malachi is screaming at them, but unless he’s dead, the dancer will not stop. Trying an evasive technique, Cas doesn’t run in a straight line, but dodges about, and it seems to work. Two more bullets blow into the ground near him, but never hit the target of Castiel’s back.

He flings open the door, dashing inside, finally taking a deep breath. “Holy hell, Clarence.” Meg exclaims into his ear.

Scanning the room, he spots the steel door, crossing to step inside. Fuck, he should have kept the phone with him because how will Dean know where they are hiding. Too late now he supposes, tugging the heavy door shut with a loud thud. There are three separate locks from the inside. It’s curious, but right now, a God send. Perhaps this was always meant to be a kind of safe room.

First, Cas yanks a shelf down onto the floor, dragging it in front of the doorway. Second, he places Meg in the far corner of the room. He doubts that any kind of weapon Malachi has would get through that door, but giving some space between them and the entrance seems to be a good idea. Finally, Castiel turns to face his friend, “Are you okay? That was a pretty hard fall.”

It’s only then that he notices her clothing. Meg has on a pale pink, lace nightie. Her hair is down, the waves all wrestling one another. Theo must have snatched her straight from the bed. She opens her legs, glancing between them, “No blood, no cramping. I think my ankle is the only casualty.”

“Good.”

“Are we safe in here?”

The dancer sighs, shrugging in a noncommittal way. “Should be. I got Sam on the phone before I chased after you. He sad twenty minutes, but I have no idea how long ago that was.” The adrenaline rush is seriously messing with his internal clock.

Meg hesitates as she tucks her head into the nook of his shoulder. Cas grins, pulling her petite frame in tighter. He kisses the top of her head, “I have missed this.”

“Dude, you are not the only one. Lucifer’s actions damaged both of us.” His friend inhales sharply, then just letting lose into a massively hysterical crying jag. Castiel is slightly taken aback because Meg is not one to show emotion. Through gasps of air she complains, “Fucking hormones.”

“Just let it out.” For the first time in a year and a half, Castiel is able to comfort Meg, stroking his fingers up and down her bare arms. Today has been a rollercoaster, and Jesus, he’s only been awake for under an hour. Gradually, over time, she calms down, only releasing a small sniffle every few minutes. Cas begins humming, not any particular song just something to help soothe Meg.

“What the hell came over you out there?” She queries wiping her nose with the silk of her nightgown.

Castiel scratches at the heavy scruff on his face, trying to decipher the right words. “I snapped.” He places another kiss on her forehead. “It was like in that moment right before I tackled Theo, the terror melted away and the panic attack never came.”

“Okay so we can blame that on adrenaline, but what about now? You can touch me.” She lifts her hand, cupping his face, and stroking her fingers over his chin. “Are you fixed?”

The male dancer chuckles, “No. However, I think I’m getting better. I finally discovered my fight song.”

BANG BANG BANG!

Meg screams, terrified by who is on the other side, palms covering her abdomen. The raven-haired man smirks. She really wants this baby. Sam is one lucky guy.

BANG BANG BANG!

He can faintly make out someone yelling, “Meg! Cas!! It’s…” The angel doesn’t need to hear another word; he would recognize that low sultry voice in his sleep.

“Dean.” Castiel stands, lifting Meg into his arms again. She must still be nervous as she wilts into his chest. He throws open the door to find both Winchesters standing there, with relief pouring over their faces.

Sam moves first, transferring Meg into his own arms. Cas warns the giant, “Careful. She had a bad fall and injured her ankle.”

The younger brother places Meg on the counter to inspect her closely from head to toe.

It’s only when Cas sees that his friend and her child are safe that the dancer falls forward, into his own lovers arms. Dean’s embrace is magical. Castiel may have won his battle over a panic attack, but he has plenty of tension ravishing his body. Although, the discomfort begins melting away at his hunter’s caress. “I’m proud of you Cas.”

“Thanks.” His muscles ache as if he just ran a marathon. A dull throb building behind his temple. “I just want you to hold me.” Dean tentatively locks his hands behind Cas’s lower back squeezing. “Tighter.” His amazing lover complies, crushing Cas beneath his arms, the sensation is miraculous. The dancer may not be able to breathe fully, but he wouldn’t trade this feeling for anything in the world.

Eventually the foursome ambles out of the kitchen into the gardens for some fresh air. Benny is upright, holding an ice pack to his head, chatting with Crowley.

“Bloody fucking hell!” Fergus cries out when they are next to him. “It looks like staying here will be a security risk.”

Sam has Meg on his hip, shifting slightly as he asks, “Why?”

“Theo and Malachi are still at large and they know how to get into the compound. We can’t just wait and hope they don’t try again.”

“What do you mean still at large?” Cas is snug against his hunter, curious about what is going on.

Crowley sighs with annoyance, “You three were the only people here when the Calvary arrived.” MacLeod tosses his hands into the air. “Fuck this, I’m tired of hunting anyways. Let’s go to Port Elizabeth. The beaches are gorgeous. Benny, tell Bobby about the change in location. I want options brought to me after lunch.” With that, the Scottish man storms off towards the main house.

“Sweet, a paid vacation at the beach.” Excitement brimming from Meg’s smile.

Sam pats her shoulder as he turns to the guesthouse. “First, we stop off at the ER to make sure everything is okay, then the beach.”

“Whatever Moose. You need to help me shower and change, then food. I’m starving.”

“As you wish.” Is the gentle giant’s only reply.

Dean swivels to face the dancer, an expression of concern on his face. “Are we going to discuss this?” The older man lifts Castiel’s hand, placing a chaste kiss on his battered knuckles.

“I lost my temper.” The angel drops his gaze, chewing on his lower lip. “It is highly unlikely that Theo left the premises on his own accord.”

His hunter explodes in a full belly laugh. “Damn Cas, here I was worried about you being taken advantage of, and you had everything under control.” Dean pauses to lick his lips, pressing them to the dancer’s ear, “Bad Ass Castiel is hot.”

The need for more drenches Cas’s veins. God, he hasn’t been this horny, so fucking astray in lustful desire, in his entire life. For the second time that day, Castiel snaps. He drags his fingertips through Dean’s dark blonde hair, and then pulls him in tight, fisting the strands, slamming his lips against his lover’s mouth, yanking harshly. His hunter follows Cas’s lead without question, immediately opening up to let the angel claim his lips, tongue, and teeth.

The passionate kiss is dirty and rough as Castiel dominates every aspect. His cock is hardening with the naughty thoughts of Dean spread out under him. The dancer breaks away, his eyes crashing into lust blown green orbs as he chokes out over a dry throat, “We need to be naked now!”

“Slow down Cas. I am all for an awesome, skin spectacular, humping session but…’

Cas can’t help rolling his eyes, “Okay, Mr. Virgin ass. We will keep it rated R with no penetration.”

Dean opens his mouth and then closes it quickly, because he really can’t deny the comment. “Let’s just get a few days past all this fucking drama, and then you can ravage me.”

“Fucking?” He teases cocking his brow. The dancer jerks his lover into his arms, assaulting his mouth with every ounce of need pumping through his body. He grabs Dean’s waist, tearing his lips from the older man as he heaves his lover over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. Cas may appear small, but he’s pure muscle.

The hunter literally squeals in shock, “Son of a Bitch!”

He spanks Dean’s ass, grinning with pride.


	22. Love Me Like You Do by Ellie Goulding

 

Dean stares into the emerald green eyes in the reflection.  The man in the mirror worries fretfully on his lower lip, trying to make a decision.  Probably the biggest leap he’s ever made, away from everything he knows.  His hand twitches, aching where the bones were broken so many years ago. 

Castiel is ready.  He is not.

The love of his life has come so far in such a short time.  Cas has clawed his way back to the person he wants to be, now he needs Dean to help him with the final step of healing.  Dean rubs the back of his neck roughly before scanning the hotel suite they have been calling home.  Bobby booked the entire top floor of the Boardwalk Hotel in Port Elizabeth, South Africa.  Everybody in the excursion has their own suite with a sitting area, separate bedroom, and massive bathroom.  Cas was disappointed that the tub was too small for both of them.

This is their third day at the hotel and Dean has to admit, it’s been fun.  The hotel sits on the edge of the Boardwalk, which is a huge adult playground with shopping, restaurants, bars, clubs, and a casino.  Across the street is the ocean, and the several pools on the property are beautiful.  Dean and Cas have spent the days relaxing in the sunshine, and evenings gambling until bedtime.  The nights have been glorious with tons of touching flesh and blowjobs, but they still haven’t done the deed.

Castiel is ready.  He is not, well maybe?  Jesus why is this so difficult?

Sighing, Dean flops down on the king size bed with a cream duvet and deep, rich burgundy sheets.  His dancer doesn’t push; he repeatedly tells him that he’s not a hypocrite.  They will go at Winchester’s speed, no rush or pressure.  Yet, the guilt is eating away at the hunter.  He wants Castiel.  When his lover’s hands are caressing his skin, their lips gliding together in a passionate kiss, there is no question.  Being with a sexy dancer who has a magnificent body, stunning smile, messy tussles of dark chocolate hair, and the bluest eyes on the planet has been the ultimate dream since he discovered masturbation. 

He glimpses the clock by the bed, almost 2pm.  Cas should be back in an hour.  Sam took Cas and Meg shopping on the boardwalk.  His brother doesn’t mind the activity, so Dean came back to the room for a shower and a nap.  Although, with the shower complete, sleep does not seem possible.  Dean’s mind battles with whether he’s ready to literally let Castiel fuck him.  Just then, the satellite phone in the sitting area begins to ring.  Dean acknowledges the fact he’s still nude, so he grabs a pair of black boxer briefs before answering.  He grins seeing Charlie on the caller ID.

“How is my favorite employee?”

A giggle responds to his query.  “Word up Winchester.  How is your impromptu vacation?”

“Pretty awesome.  We should build this into the schedule every year.”  Only after it leaves his mouth does he frown.  The company is on its deathbed; there will be no next summer.  Dean crashes onto the soft, burgundy couch, kicking his feet up on the matching ottoman.  “Sorry, I keep forgetting.”

“No worries…”  Dean can envision Charlie squinting her eyes tentatively, “Is Castiel, or Meg around?”

Well that was very specific, “No, what’s going on?”

“The office had a break in last night.”

Dean leans forward, dropping his feet to the floor concern in his tone.  “Are you okay?  What was stolen?  How did they get past the security system?”  Charlie is extremely diligent in setting the alarm, so Dean’s brain is racing with possible intruders, although a certain ex-con is top of his list.

“I am fine, and nothing was taken.  It happened while I was at home.”  Dean’s jaw tightens, because that shortens the count quickly.  “Whoever was here had a clear-cut agenda.  They completely trashed the bed, slicing up the sheets and mattress.  The culprit did leave some artwork on the walls for you.”

And now we have one suspect.  “And what did our night time poet leave for us?”

“Threats, as in more than one.”  The hunter stays silent, processing the information as calmly as possible.  Charlie is just the messenger.  Keep your anger in check Winchester.  “The person used red spray paint.”  Dean simply nods because he was expecting that.  “The first one is on the far wall in the main room.  They tossed several of the family photos to the floor to make room.  It’s going to take me all day to clean that up.  Gadreel said he might… “

“Charlie, big breath and just tell me… what did it say?”

“Dean Winchester will die.”  Okay the hunter is actually not surprised at all.  Lucifer was menacing and evil towards him the second he turned to leave the visitation room.  “My bad boy will be punished, is scrawled down the hallway.  And last, but not least, ‘He is mine’ in the bedroom.”

The hunter’s blood is boiling.  This fucking lunatic is going to haunt them until Dean puts him down.  “Is there any evidence to place Nick at the office?”  Breaking and entering would most definitely violate his parole, sending the asshole back where he belongs.

“No.  The intruder wore gloves, and the entire building lost power for forty minutes last night.  All he had to do was jimmy the door open, and the entire apartment was his.”

“How did an entire complex lose power for that long and nobody notice?”

“It was three in the morning.  The door attendant called the police and power company of course, but before anyone arrived, it was back up and running.  No one thought anything of it until I came in this morning and saw the mess.”

“Don’t tell Sam.  I’ll do that later.”  There isn’t much he can do from another continent.  Although, Dean is curious as to why Lucifer would basically announce his intentions of harming them to the world.  Unless, “did they interview Nick?”

“He has a solid alibi.  An ankle monitor.  One of his conditions for release.”

Great, of course he does.  However, the dude is filthy rich and the job was kid’s play.  In fact the actual graffiti artist was most likely the same person as before.  “I don’t think you are in any danger, but maybe don’t be at the office alone anymore, okay?”

“Honestly Dean, not much for me to do.  There are already multiple offers on the apartment, so when you and Sam get back, it’s just a matter of signing the paperwork.  I can move the computer stuff to my home and just work from there.”

“Have Gadreel help you move the stuff, and take precautions so no one follows you.  Charlie, use the extra time to cancel all existing trips.  Sam’s not going to leave Meg, and I’m done with the hunting business.”

A long drawn out pause gives Charlie time to process, “I’ve been putting out feelers for a new job.  Can they call you for a reference?”

“Yes, expect a glowing recommendation from both Sam and I.”

“Okey dokey Boss.  Talk to ya later.”

“Bye Charlie, be safe.”  The phone goes dead as his employee severs the connection.

Dean was expecting this from Lucifer.  He’s the type of snake that enjoys playing with his food before killing it.  He stands, tossing the phone on the couch as he paces the living area.  After all this, the hunter is definitely not going to nap.  His brain now rattled with several stressors; the demolition of his father’s pride and joy, Winchester Hunters, the fact that a mad man will be stalking him the second Dean lands in New York, and well, of course sex with Cas.  “UGH!”

The hunter returns to the full length mirror on the door to the closet.  The company’s downfall is his fault, but there is nothing he can do now but make sure Charlie and Sam are taken care of.  His Dad bought the apartment outright years ago as an investment to his retirement.  The sale should make them around 500 grand, maybe more.  A large part of that can be Charlie’s severance pay to tie her over until she finds a new job, the rest can be split between he and Sam.  Add that to Dean’s savings and Castiel should not need to return to the Devil’s Trap, ever. 

The Nick situation is nothing the hunter can fix.  “Fuck you, Lucifer.”  Dean yells as he slams his fist into the wall cracking the plaster.  That sadistic bastard holds the entire deck of cards, all he can do is play an offensive game until they guy assaults Dean, giving him the chance to eliminate the threat once and for all.  The hunter glances down at his hand, realizing how much it hurts.  “Damn it.”  He grabs the house phone dialing zero. 

“Room Service.”

“Hey, can you send up a bucket of ice, a bottle of Jack Daniels, and a cheeseburger with fries.”

“Of course, Mr. Winchester.”

He hangs up the phone, proud that he at least he ordered food with his liquor when he is smacked with the relevance of the injured hand, “Dean Winchester likes tits and pussy.”  He whispers to himself his throbbing knuckles beginning to swell.  “Not anymore, Dad.  You were wrong, you homophobic ass.”

Confidence builds in the hunter’s chest as the front door opens.  His gentle angel strides in, carrying three shopping bags.  The smile that shines from his Cas obliterates the darkness and any hesitation.  Dean loves Cas.  This gorgeous man will never harm him, and Dean’s desires his soft touch above anything else.

“Dean?”  The dancer is standing in front of him, confusion and concern filling his face.  Cas places the bags on the floor, his gaze dropping to Dean’s damaged hand.  “What happened?”

The only words the hunter can think to say come stumbling out of his mouth, “Dean Winchester likes Cas and cock.”

“I know.”  Castiel states it so securely, as though there is no doubt in his mind.  His boyfriend inspects the bruising flesh, placing little kisses across his knuckles.  “Castiel Novak loves Dean and his dick.”

The hunter bursts into an anxious cackle.  His angel lifts his head, slanting it to the left with a perplexed expression, “Did I say something wrong?”

“No Cas, you are perfect.”  He cups the man‘s chin tenderly in his hands.  “I love you.”

“I love you, Dean.”  Warmth spreads through the hunter’s heart as he chastely kisses his lover.

Their lips part giving passage for tongues to explore, and moans to surround them.  The knock at the door causes Castiel to pull back, “Are we expecting someone?”

“I ordered a late lunch.”  Dean strolls over, letting the room service guy into the room.

Once the waiter exits the suite, Dean catches his angel snagging a few fries.  A guilty grin spreads across Cas’s lips, “Sorry, I guess I’m hungry.  What’s with the whiskey?”  Suddenly Castiel’s face changes as he starts to put the clues together, “What the hell is going on?”

“I don’t want to talk about it right now, I want to do something else.”  The hunter ambles forward, his eyes locking on his precious prey.  “Finish the fries and get naked.”

Castiel chokes on the food he was swallowing, “Dean, if we are going to fool around, I need a shower.  I’m all sweaty and Meg…”

The hunter doesn’t let him finish his sentence.  He grabs him taking his mouth into his own.  Amid the passing of tongues Dean spits out, “No shower… sweaty is good… no more fooling.”

The other man snatches Dean’s shoulders shoving him back slightly, “WHAT?!?”

He crosses over to his suitcase, retrieving a condom and a small bottle of lube.  Dean can’t seem to find his voice, but he knows that Cas will understand as he hands over the items.

Blue eyes gawk at the bottle and foil wrapper in his grasp.  “Right now?!  As in, we have intercourse this minute?  I always thought we’d have a romantic evening first.”

“Cas.”  His voice at least sounds firm in his decision.  “Seriously, we’ve had like, plenty of girly romantic moments.  How about later tonight we go watch the light show off the Boardwalk?  Dinner, dancing, whatever you want baby.  But right now, I just need you, nothing else.”

“You have me.”  Castiel growls chucking the supplies to the bed.  His angel makes quick work, stripping off his clothes while Dean gingerly drops his boxer briefs to the carpet.  The hunter is edgy, maybe a little skittish in his movements at first, but he takes a deep breath.  He trusts Cas.

Green orbs search out the sparkling sapphire gems of his lover.  “Just… maybe take it slow.”

His dancer smiles, “This is not something you rush, Dean.”  Cas rubs the hunter’s shoulders lovingly, which helps to ease the tension there.  “Go lie down on the bed, face down.”

“Umm Cas?”

“Calm down and do it, please.”  Dean nods his head hesitantly as he obeys.  “Excellent Dean.”

The raven-haired man perches next to him.  Dean inhales deeply, an aroma of the salty ocean sweeps over his nostrils.  Castiel should never shower again.  He smells fantastic as Dean releases his breath to calm his anxiety.  Without warning, Cas is peppering his back and neck with swift, chaste kisses, making the hunter giggle.  “Dude, your killing the mood.”  He exclaims over the snickers.

“Actually, I think this is better don’t you.”

He shakes his head in agreement.  The laughter has helped considerably.  Then, a wet tongue drags across his back.  There is a pattern to the design and it dawns on Dean that Cas is tracing his tattoo wings.  The movement is unhurried and intentional.  The hunter relaxes into the touch.  This is pure adoration. 

A few minutes later, the soft, moist tongue moves off the tattoo path.  It takes Dean a second, but then he understands.  Cas is drawing in the missing pieces.  His angel is mending the broken wings.  The delicate manner in which Cas is handling him makes the hunter feel treasured and special.  He is totally pliant in Castiel’s hands when he senses the other man reach over and grab something from the edge of the mattress.  It’s not until he hears the telltale sign of a bottle being opened that Dean stirs.

“Shhh.  Relax, why don’t you flip over.”

He chuckles as he complies, “Doesn’t that impede your access?”

“Don’t be silly Dean.  I know you’re scared, but I’m going to go extremely slow.  Okay?”

The hunter’s gaze darts around the room, avoiding the indigo stare.  “I’m fine.”

“Look at me.  I’m going to stop right now if you don’t acknowledge me.”

He pauses, locking glares with Castiel’s fierce orbs, “Cas, I swear to God I want this.  Just a little nervous.”

“Nervous is fine,” his angel strokes Dean’s cheek with his fingers, “but I can halt at any time.  There is absolutely NEVER a point of no return.  You are the one in control.  If I hear ‘no’, ‘stop’, or ‘I can’t’, I’m jumping off this bed like a fucking hot potato.”

It would be funny if the hunter wasn’t so heartened by the sentiment.  Castiel may be the one on top, but he’s reminding Dean that they are equals.  “Got it.”  Dean grins as he whispers, “Kiss me.”

“Gladly.”  His dancer tilts in, pressing his lips to Deans.  The kiss is tender and full of love.  Cas is taking his time, refusing to hurry this for either of them.  Even as mouths open, their tongues stroking together, the pace is leisurely.

Dean is completely astray with kissing that his muscles are relaxing to jelly, his body melts into the sheets below.  He barely registers Cas moving his legs apart, and a single slick digit glides into his hole.  The progress is controlled, little by little his angel’s finger moves in, out, and side to side, stretching him out softly.  Castiel continues to give Dean lazy, lengthy kisses as a second digit is added to the first.  There is no burn, no pain, just the emerging hum of desire with each pass of the fingers.  Cas is steering clear of his prostrate for now, but Dean lets it go.  Giving himself over to his lover is amazing, and Dean’s comfort level rises along with the pleasure.  The dancer is treating him like a precious prize, and although Dean would never admit it to another soul, he loves it.

As Cas begins to scissor his fingers back and forth, the tips are almost grazing over that special spot.  It’s such a timid motion that it doesn’t take him off guard; instead, it simply helps his craving for Cas to grow.  The hunter has no clue how long they have been kissing while Cas opens him up, but the addition of a third finger is pure bliss.  The sensation of Cas inside him isn’t terrifying like he originally thought, instead, he feels cared for and cherished.  In fact, he is so tranquil and at peace, he could almost fall asleep.  Kind of like a really good massage, but from the inside.  However, Castiel changes the angle of his digits.  The focus suddenly on his prostate and Dean wakes up fast.  A burst of fireworks shooting across his body as the hunter shouts, “Jesus Fucking Christ!”

He opens his eyes to see Cas grinning like the Cheshire cat so proud of his discovery.  “Bingo.”

His lover hits the pleasure spot several more times causing Dean to squirm, shout, and nearly go blind before he pulls his fingers from Dean’s ass.  The hunter literally whines from the loss, “Cas.”

“How would you like to cum?”

God Dean loves this man even more in this moment.  The hunter blushes as he responds, “On your cock.”

Castiel is utterly glowing from Dean’s answer.  “You are so beautiful.”

“Really Dude, less pretty words and more action.”  The hunter winks with a naughty smirk.  The dancer loosely strokes Dean’s dick, making him moan.  His member is rock hard and leaking with pre-cum, it’s not going to take much.  “My ass is missing something.”

“Such a sassy bottom.”  Cas snarks as he puts on the condom and lubes up his cock.  His lover settles into position between Dean’s thighs, and the hunter takes a calming breath.  He can feel the tip of Castiel’s dick on his hole, but instead of fear, there is the raw desire to be worshiped by those blue eyes.  Dean wants Cas inside him NOW.

The exquisite raven-haired man, who will hold Dean’s heart forever, leans forward, kissing him.  The lustful lip embrace goes deeper and stronger as the hunter is reminded how delicious he finds his lover.  Abruptly, Dean senses Castiel’s cock pushing into him.  His reaction to the intrusion is to groan with lust and wrap his legs around Cas’s waist. 

The angel’s hands stroke Dean’s hair adoringly as Cas gently travels into the hunter’s hole.  Once he’s seated completely inside him, Castiel simply holds still, letting the hunter adjust.  The dancer shivers from the strength it is taking to not move, sweat dribbles from his brow, “I love you, Dean.”

“I love you, Cas, now move, damn it.”

Cas takes the order to heart as he quickly identifies Dean’s prostrate and goes to town banging into the spot.  Dean is drowning in pleasure, this is the best thing EVER!  “Jesus Cas, Jesus Cas, Jesus Cas!”  His brain is one huge stutter as all the senses the Lord gave him are washed in Castiel.

His vision is blurred with Caribbean blue orbs.  He swears that he can’t take any more when Cas slips his hand down and pumps Dean’s dick in tune with his thrusts.  “FUUUUUCK!”  They both cry in unison.

Three strokes in and Dean is shooting his load onto their bellies screaming with all his might.  His toes curl so harshly they ache.  Castiel whimpers tenderly before releasing a low, "Dean!" as he climaxes.

Heavy panting from both men is the only sound.  The hunter envelopes his lover into his arms, kissing the crazy, dark, bedhead hair.  Cas appears to immediately pass out with a quiet, “Love you.”

Without question, Dean decides that cleaning up can happen much, much later, letting Castiel’s face tuck into his shoulder.  The noise of tiny kitten purrs fills the room triggering a smug grin from the hunter. 

Dean makes a promise to himself and God the Almighty in that moment.  He will die before Lucifer touches his angel.  The hunter tightens his hold as Castiel’s cock slips from his hole.  Dean is sad over the loss, but he will let Cas rest.  Today has been a big day for them both.  The older man places a kiss to the dancer’s head, speaking in a hushed tone, “I am yours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My editor has put together a playlist for the story check it out!
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLd_xfPGGB-BxmxK0R2ldoJIz2ruXXuPYp


	23. Sugar by Maroon 5

 

The sun is bright, burning into Dean’s retinas as he looks up.  Shit, he really needs to put his sunglasses back on, but that would mean moving and Cas is currently curled up next to him, napping.  A tuft of raven locks obscures the hunters shoulder.  Magnificent purrs emanating from the throat of his boyfriend.   Blue water sparkles near them as sunrays bounce off the Infinity pool.  God, this is heaven to the hunter, complete with a beautiful angel.

But then Dean recalls why he opened his eyes in the first place.  “Crowley, what the hell do you want?  It’s the last day; don’t you have a last minute orgy to tend to?”

“Yes, but first a little business,” he slaps Sam’s leg.  The younger Winchester is on the lounge chair next to them with Meg.  “Wake up, Moose!”

“Crowley,” his brother growls tugging his sunglasses into place.  Dean glances over at his pair on the other side of Castiel.  Fuck so not worth it.  “Can we help you?”

The short Scottish man shakes his head, letting water droplets spray about, making Dean wince, “Quit dude, and just tell us what you want.”

“Well you both,” Fergus swings his pointer finger between the brothers, “lost the bet and need to pay up.”

“What bet?”  Sam states his face scrunching up confused.

Crowley leans back, placing his palms on his hips, “No one was allowed to touch the dancers, or there would be penalties.”  Macleod’s eyes bouncing from Cas and Meg.  “I believe your current positions prove my point, so I’m here to collect.”

Dean’s scanning his brain trying to figure out the rubbish spilling from Crowley’s mouth.  Then it hits him.  “I am so not giving you ten grand.”

“First, you have to give your main squeezes there the mullah.  So you can work that out amongst yourselves.  I’m talking about the second part of the bet.  You have to run a mile, naked.”

Sam and Dean cringe because damn it, he’s right.  They all signed the behavior contract which included the rules and penalties.  Sam sighs his reply, “When and where?”

The two brothers could attempt to fight it, but in the end, keeping MacLeod happy is there job until they return to New York.  Fergus pats his cheek thoughtfully as Abaddon strides up behind him, handing Crowley a tropical drink with, like, four umbrellas.  “Abby Doll, when should we have the Winchester boys do the naked mile?”

“Call me that again and I’ll remove a testicle.”  Her voice is soft and endearing with a wicked cold smile.  The metallic silver bikini she’s wearing has less material than Cas’s G-string.  “Maybe tonight after dinner, have them jog down the beach as a nice sunset activity.”

“Excellent idea.  Then it’s settled.  We will meet just before dusk at the pier across the street.  Wear something that’s easy to drop.”  Crowley gives them a smug wink before sauntering after the red head.

Cas digs at his eye sockets yawning, “Why do you have to wear easily removed clothing tonight?”

“We touched the dancers, so we have to abide by the penalties.”  Dean bounces his head shyly kissing Cas.

“Who?”  His boyfriend stretches, rising to his feet.  The movement allows Cas’s bathing suit to drop rather low on his hips, making Dean’s mouth water.  He now fully understands why it’s called a happy trail because the hunter is all too familiar with the happiness under there.

Sam drags his fingers through Meg’s long dark hair.  “You and Meg, but totally worth it.”

Her face is turned away from the group, but a snarky, “Better be” can be heard.

His angel grins, “Can we take video?”

The Winchesters answer in a united front, “NO!”

****

 

Dusk is drifting over them as Dean and Sam stand waiting for Crowley to arrive.  Dean’s in a solitary pair of basketball shorts.  He’s trying to decide if holding his junk while jogging is worth slowing down his pace.  Meg curls up next to Cas, their arms wrapping around each other.  The hunter is pretty positive that the two will be rolling in laughter soon enough.  He smiles, watching the newest members of his family. 

Eventually Macleod stalks up with nearly fifty people in tow.  “Seriously, Crowley, you needed to bring an audience!”  Dean is angry but not surprised.

“Winchester, all I had to do was give a description of the sights and it was like I became the fucking Pied Piper of cocks.”

Fergus waves his hand and the crowd triples at least.  “Oh no way,” Dean feels naked in just a t-shirt.  This has officially left his comfort zone.  Stripping for Cas is one thing, running the beach nude with spectators is a big, HELL NO!  Then his eyes find sapphire gems with a loving grin and he realizes this is nothing.  Fuck, this could even be fun. 

“Are we good, boys?”  Crowley raises his arm like he’s starting a race.  Dean and Sam nod their agreement.  “Oh, one more thing, if you carry them I’ll double your pay for the trip.”

Sam looks around, “Carry who?”

“Meg and Castiel of course.”  The Scottish man cocks an eyebrow, waiting for the brother’s response.

The younger Winchester’s shorts plunge to the sand as Sam tosses Meg over his shoulder and dashes down the beach.  “Son of a Bitch!”  Dean sheds his shorts yelling over his shoulder, “Cas, let’s go.”

The angel doesn’t have to be told twice as he leaps on to Dean for a piggy back ride.  The duo darts after his brother. Dean is forced to hold Cas, keeping his hands away from his crotch, which means the hunter’s cock is swinging like his thighs are playing tetherball. 

He is maybe a quarter of a mile in when Dean’s lungs and legs are screaming, STOP!  Castiel is thin and beautiful, but the guy is pure, hard muscle.  That is not easy to carry long distance.  The hunter slows to a quick walk, “Jesus Cas, what did you eat for dinner?”

Laughter explodes from the man on his back.  “Wishing you had slept with Meg?’

“With every step dude, she’s what, an even hundred?”

“Pretty much, and Sam is bigger so the odds are in his favor.”

Dean tries picking up his speed after the Sam comment.  Damn it, Dean is not a slacker in the muscles department.  “Not the right time for a Hunger Games reference, baby.”

A swift kiss lands on the hunter’s cheek, “Sorry, I can always jump off.  I like my boyfriend alive and kicking.”

“No!  I may not be able to run, but I can cart your ass a stupid mile.”  Dean huffs for emphasis.

“Your call.” 

Cas peppers his shoulders with kisses, bringing back a wonderful memory, but that seems to wake up little Deano.  The dancer is only wearing his swim trunks, which has left a lot of grinding skin.  The combination is sending him over the edge to a naughty place.  “Please understand this request.  I love the kissing, but right now, a boner will just make things much, much worse.”

A simple whine springs from his angel’s throat.  “What can I do to help?”

“Be very still.”

They are almost to the halfway point when Sam passes them on his return trip.  The asshole he once called a brother is still traveling at top speed.  Meg has slid down his back to ride like Cas.  Dean shouts, “Nobody likes a show off!” 

“But everybody loves a winner!”  The tiny brunette yells.

Dean zeros in on one thing, finishing.  Actually, now that he’s not jogging, it’s not too bad.  At some point, Cas decides that singing Disney songs is a great way to pass the time.  The hunter would tell him to shut up, but it’s a nice distraction.  The two men hit the next pier, which is the marker to head back from whence they came while Castiel is belting out ‘Under the Sea’.

The sun is barely a whisper over the horizon as Dean continues his quest.  There is nothing but pure stubbornness and pride pushing his feet forward at this point.  The pain is more of a dull ache, but as the hunter listens to Cas hit every note to ‘Hakuna Matata’, he can’t help enjoying the moment.  Stories like this are legendary.  Why yes, Dean did carry the love of his life a mile over hot sand. 

He’s been telling Cas for weeks now that they are permanent.  Yet, how can he show the world.  If his sweet angel had lady parts, Dean would propose.  HOLY FUCKING SHIT!  Did the diehard bachelor Dean Winchester just think about asking Castiel to marry him?  He literally stumbles as the thoughts trample through his mind like a heard of buffalo.

“Dean, you okay?”  Clearly the lurch was noticeable.

“Yup, no weird thoughts here.”

“Alright.”  The dancer draws out the word as if he’s trying to figure out some hidden meaning before starting up a new song, ‘I’ll make a man out of you.’  He can hear the snicker in Cas’s voice as he tries to sound nonchalant and failing.

They are almost to the finish line.  Dean still lost in his ponderings of engagement, and Cas ripping out ‘Let it Go’.  So when the hunter reaches the goal, he does just that, dropping the dancer to his butt on the ground.  “I did it, Crowley.”

All the spectators are hooting and hollering as Fergus replies, “Well, put a fucking rose on your nose.”

Dean doesn’t have the energy for a snide comment; he collapses to the space next to Cas.  He closes his eyes, settling on a power nap before any further movement.  Someone is lifting his foot, forcing the hunter to crack open an eyelid.  Castiel is putting his basketball shorts back on him.  Honestly, Dean could care less.  There is NOTHING left to the imagination, but he shifts his hips anyways when the dancer tugs on them.  “Cas.  I just need thirty minutes.”

“No.  Sit up.”  The angel’s voice is commanding, so Dean obeys without question.  In seconds he’s upside down hanging over Castiel’s shoulder.

Cas is strolling towards the hotel, when Dean glances over at Sam still panting on the sand.  The elder Winchester calls over to his brother, “Oh she can’t carry you back?  Bummer.”

Sam flicks him the middle finger in annoyance.  And that, ladies and gentleman, makes it totally worth it!

****

 

“Hot bath or massage?”

Castiel throws him onto their bed, his eyes burning into Dean’s.  “Can I have both?”

“Yes, of course, Dean.”  His boyfriend tilts down, kissing the hunter and letting their lips linger.  Then he’s off to the bathroom.  He can hear the noise of water running.  Dean huffs at the thought that he will be alone in the tub.

He lifts his head, peering in the general direction of the other man.  “We should call the front desk and see if there is a room with a bigger bathtub.”

“Dean, I called them twenty minutes after we checked in and no, this is all they have.”  Cas exclaims as he strips down to nothing.

The hunter is chewing his lip, disappointment visible on his face.  Why is he naked?  Dean can’t focus on cleaning his parts with a nude angel right there.  Cas tugs on his hands, helping him to rise so the dancer can remove Dean’s dirty clothes.  Still pouting, the hunter ambles into the bathroom noticing the steam rising.  God that looks amazing.  He is completely secure in his masculinity as he allows Cas to hold his hand for stability as he climbs in.  The water is shockingly hot, but soooo nice on his screaming muscles.  “Oooh!”

“Duck your head in the water.”  Dean is in no place to argue with the angel who summoned this happy place. 

When he resurfaces, strong fingers scrub shampoo into his scalp.  “FUCK!” he moans.  The lack of touch for so long has him reveling in every caress.  Cas is massaging his entire body, scrubbing soap into his dirty skin.  Pleasure hums through Dean’s veins as the dancer fondles every inch.  He yelps when Castiel palms his crotch, stroking roughly, “Mmmm.”  Hungry emerald eyes pop open as the hunter’s dick hardens at his lover’s control.

“Under to rinse,” Cas’s voice is deep and sultry.  He gasps, quickly diving under. 

As air reenters his lungs, an idea flies into the hunters thoughts.  He glimpses around realizing that it might work.  The tub is thin like a regular one; however, it is extremely long, allowing the man to stretch out.  Dean snatches Castiel’s wrists yanking his prey on top of him.  Water splashes to the floor in massive quantities.  All the contents of the tub could land on the tiles and it wouldn’t stop him from his mission.  He snares the dancer’s entire body between his arms and legs squeezing tightly, “I love you.”

“Dean, that was unnecessary.”  His dancer grumbles through a wide smile.

He takes the opportunity to attack those velvety lips.  The hunter’s hands roaming the considerable amount of flesh before him, as the kiss deepens with several groans.  Cas shifts slightly and suddenly Dean is highly aware of the other man’s erection.  The two hard members flush against each other, the hot water playing as an excellent lubricant.  His magnificent angel begins to thrust back and forth.  Jesus the friction between their cocks is electrifying.  Dean is barely holding on.

The hunter is no longer capable of coherent thoughts.  He is lost to everyone, everything, except the man grinding above him.  Moans, groans, growls, lips smacking, and water splashing are like music to his ears.  The mixing scents of Dean’s shampoo and Cas’s beach drenched body arouse them both.

Castiel’s writhing becomes erratic as the two lovers reach a mind shattering orgasm together. The angel screaming, “Dean” as the hunter returns the call with, “Cas!”  As the waves of climax overtake their bodies he can hear the whimpers of his angel over the swipes of their raw tongues.

Several more delightful aftershocks later, and Castiel lifts his lips away, causing Dean to whine.  “Time to get out, Dean, we need to pack.”

Tomorrow morning they leave for the long trek back to the States.  He doesn’t want go.  There are so many startling realities waiting for them back in New York.  Dean needs to find a job for the first time in his life.  Like how does one even do that?  Castiel needs to quit the Devil’s Trap… oh yeah the hunter needs to convince him to do that.  And last, but no way in fucking hell least, Lucifer himself will become stalker number one.

Dean can only see one solution to all their problems.  He tightens his grip around the angel whispering, “Nope we are staying here forever.”

“Five more minutes,” the dancer replies as he tucks his wet hair under the hunter’s chin.

“Deal.”

 


	24. I Will Follow You Into the Dark by Death Cab for Cutie

 

Possessive is typically not a word that Castiel would use to describe his boyfriend.  In the near four months that they have known each other, the dancer has learned several things about Dean Winchester.  One major aspect is the hunter respects Cas, even thrives on the dancer being the more dominate partner, so this current situation has him baffled.

Since leaving Port Elizabeth, traveling to Johannesburg, and boarding the flight for Amsterdam, Dean’s behavior has shown severe possessive tendencies.  He is aware that his hunter has a protective streak for those he loves, but this is concerning.  Dean has repeatedly stood between Cas and any stranger, the hunter’s arms, hands, and sometimes legs wrapping around him like a snake.  The green-eyed man has also become increasingly agitated to the point that his sleeping pills for flying are doing squat.  Sam had to double up on the dosage to make it through the eleven hour flight to Amsterdam.  Actually, the thing that finally did it wasn’t drugs at all, but Castiel himself, crawling into Dean’s lap, and letting the man embrace him tightly.

They are three hours into an eight-hour layover before the final leg to New York, and his hunter seems worse.  He and Dean are having lunch with Sam and Meg at a nondescript airport restaurant when the hunter leaves to use the restroom.  The soon-to-be parents are in a deep discussion about names when a gentleman approaches their table. 

His English is abysmal but the attempt is appreciated.  The guy is trying to buy Castiel a drink, and the angel is unsuccessful in getting across the message that he’s taken.  At some point, the dancer thinks he says the name Bartholomew, but he can’t be sure.  The situation is borderline comical and both men are all smiles until the stranger places his hand on Cas’s shoulder and squeezes gently.  In his mind, he knows that it was meant in kindness, but Castiel freaks, his arms flailing with shock that sending a water glass to the floor shattering on contact.  Bartholomew recoils his hand, his eyes wide from the overreaction and it all goes to hell in a second when Dean shows up out of nowhere. 

The hunter grabs the poor man by his throat, almost lifting him off his feet.  Dean is snarling like a lunatic while yelling, “Who sent you?  What do you want?”

It takes both Sam and Castiel to soothe the older Winchester so he will release the stranger.  Bartholomew immediately dashes from the premises, and all four of them are asked to leave the restaurant before security is called.

Meg is grumbling about not finishing her food when without warning, Castiel is being hurled into a family bathroom, one of those solitary rooms with a toilet and baby changing area.  “Excuse us a minute,” Dean shouts over his shoulder as he slams the door shut, locking it.

Castiel has his back plastered against the far wall of the small, square space.  Terror is dripping into his body as he realizes he’s trapped in a confined area with a very upset hunter.  He reminds himself that this is just the anxiety, that Dean would never harm him, but the rage in his boyfriend’s eyes tells a different story.

In three smooth steps, his face is swimming with green orbs.  “Who was that guy, Cas?”

“I don’t know.”  The dancer stammers. 

“You shouldn’t talk to unfamiliar people.”  Dean cages him against the wall with those powerful arms his voice threatening.  Castiel is battling to stave off hyperventilating.  “It can be dangerous.”

His boyfriend is roughly stroking Cas’s arms tugging on his shirt.  Dean’s words sound like Nick.  Next he imagines the hunter will be kicking him to the floor screaming; ‘Mine’!  This cannot be happening.  Dean showed none of the markers of an abusive partner.  He’s the bottom for Christ sake!  Shock is causing his body to vibrate as Dean twists Castiel’s shirt over his head letting it drift to the tile.

As the hunter touches his skin, Castiel can sense Dean’s hands trembling with raw fury.  Oh my God please let this be a joke.  Emerald eyes lower as his lover sucks harshly on Cas’s clavicle.  Dean is marking him.  Granted, it will easily be hidden by a t-shirt, but this is a classic domineering action. 

Dean whispers, the tone broken like he’s out of control.  “He can’t have you.  You are… “

Dear God please don’t say it.  Don’t say mine.  Please!  Tears are building in the corners of Castiel’s eyes as he quickly squeezes them shut, waiting for the first strike.

“…so special.  I love you, Cas.”

What the fuck did he just say?!?  Abruptly, the dancer opens his eyes, finally seeing Dean for the first time in two days.  Dean’s not angry.  This is Dean Winchester frightened.  His terrors and anxieties from Nick are clouding his ability to truly see his lover.  The hunter isn’t trying to close off the world so Cas can be his in a scary, possessive way.  No, Dean is menacing and intimidating out of fear that someone working for Nick will take Castiel away.  Thank God all the pieces are finally making a much more believable image.  The dancer takes a deep, cleansing breath, “What is going on, Dean?  Why are you scared?”

“Because the closer we get to New York, the more risky it gets for you.”  Dean embraces him and begins to cry.  The hunter simply falls apart in the dancers hold.  “I need you more than oxygen,” his kindhearted boyfriend whimpers between sobs.

Castiel tightens his arms and allows Dean to let it all out.  A small part of him feels ridiculous and ashamed for even comparing his hunter to Lucifer.  He kisses the top of his boyfriend’s head as he mumbles into the sandy blonde hair, “We will keep each other safe Dean, as a team.”

The only noise is Dean’s weeping and Castiel softly humming.  Several minutes later, his hunter appears to relax, the tears halting.  “Lucifer will come after me first.” 

“How do you know that?”  They are still in a firm hug as Cas sways lightly.

“Trust me it will happen, so maybe you shouldn’t be around me for awhile.”  Dean’s actions betray him as the hunter’s hold stiffens.

The dancer pulls back, bringing his hand up to cup Dean’s chin, “Not an option.  I will follow you anywhere, including the unknown.”

Hallelujah!  A grin breaks across Dean’s mouth, “Perhaps, we can find a compromise.”

“Lay it on me.”  Cas winks, hoping to lighten the mood.

It must work because Dean chuckles while talking, “You don’t go on an extended vacation, but you do quit the Devil’s Trap.”

“I don’t see how my dancing has anything to do with Nick.  The security there is better than a bank; however, I will let it slide that this request is more personal, and simply say yes.”

Castiel can physically sense Dean’s muscles loosen, a deep sigh leaving his lips.  “I also talked with Benny about how much it would cost to have him hang out for a couple weeks.”

“Dean we are about to both be unemployed, Is that wise?”

“The additional pay from Crowley should cover it.  I need the extra set of eyes.  Please agree Cas?”

It wasn’t like he was going to deny his hunter.  Having Benny around would allow Dean to sleep and find some peace during the madness that a waits.  “Of course.”

The hunter’s lips crash into his own.  The kiss is passionate and oozing in lust.  If Cas knew that accepting Benny as a bodyguard for a few more weeks and quitting the Devil’s trap would flip Dean’s switch this fast, he would have done it first.  Damn, this man’s mouth is sin reincarnate, and the angel’s eyes darken with desire at his next comment.  “Now something for me, Dean.”

His lover is already yanking at Castiel’s belt buckle, two steps ahead of the game.  “Anything, Cas.”  The sultry way Dean says his name goes straight to his crotch.

“On your knees.”  Those emerald beauties flash with surprise, but then his hunter obeys.  Castiel requires a little stress reliever, not to mention he desperately needs to feel in control, if only for a moment.  Dean doesn’t insist on any instructions as he carefully frees the dancer’s dick, stroking it swiftly.  Tilting back so his shoulders are supported on the brick wall, Cas exhales.  He emits a feral groan as the hunter latches his tongue onto Cas’s shaft, lapping at it vigorously.  Everything stills in his brain as Dean swallows him whole.  “Jesus!”

The grip on Castiel’s hips is so strong he will have bruises, but the dancer doesn’t care.  Dean’s mouth hastily pumps up and down on his cock, and the sensation is glorious.  This may only be the hunter’s third time giving head, but of all that is holy, the man is a fast learner.  The dancer can faintly make out the sound of Dean undoing his own jeans, releasing his swollen dick.  His boyfriend jacks himself off while continuing his ministrations on Cas’s erection. 

Castiel can’t choose which is his favorite?  Dean’s mouth or his ass.  The two are equally warm and inviting, although his ass is taut and the reactions from his lover triple the excitement.  The dancer cards his fingers through Dean’s silky locks as he whimpers through his orgasm.  An instant later, his lover is spilling his seed onto the bathroom floor, growling his name.  Yup, being separated from Dean for any reason on the planet is wrong and pure evil.

****

Either blowing Cas or the conversation appears to pacify the beast within Dean.  For the rest of the layover, Castiel finds his lover endearing with his caresses.  The green eyes smiling along with his mouth as the sound of laughter erupts from his throat.

Prior to boarding for New York, Dean takes his full dosage of knock out pills with no fight.  The hunter is pliant in his hands, permitting Cas to guide him to their seats.  The gentle rise and fall of Dean’s chest gives the dancer a sense of peace as the plane takes flight.  Castiel took the aisle seat for a change, tucking Dean by the window.  The dancer grins at Cain, who is sitting across the row from him.  Cas has always felt him to be a fair and decent person.

A few hours in and most the passengers are resting, but Cas is wide-awake.  He’s watched Big Hero 6 and the book he bought is just not catching his attention.  It’s an old Nora Roberts romance, but he’s finding it rather dull.  He scans the area out of boredom when he catches Cain staring at him.

“You remind me of someone, Castiel.”

That is not something he hears very often.  His appearance has always been described as unique, or odd, so this is new.  “Really?  who?”

“Have you ever met Hannah?”  Cain takes a moment to glare at Castiel from head to toe.

“You mean Crowley’s wife?”

The older man nods his head.  “I can’t put my finger on it, but there seems to be a resemblance.  Do you know much about your extended family?”

“I was adopted.”

Cain’s eyes narrow like he’s working on an extremely difficult puzzle.  “How much do you know about your biological family?”

“Nothing.”  Normally Castiel is not a fan of discussing his weird beginnings, but honestly, how much crazier can you get after knowing Crowley.  “I was found outside a Fire Station when I was little.  I don’t even know my real age or birthday.”

“Very intriguing.”  The other man is tugging at his gray beard.  “Hannah will meet Crowley at JFK.  She always does.  I think you should say hello.”

“Umm, okay.”  Then Cas thinks of the question he has been dying to ask someone, about Macleod and his wife.  “Does she know about his activities while abroad?”

Cain smirks, “Oh yes, the trips to blow off steam are her idea.  See, eleven months out of the year, Crowley remains a faithful and adoring husband.  In return, Hannah gives him one month to basically run amok.”

Both men chuckle at the bizarre arrangement.  “And that works for them?”

“Well the fact that they have been together for nineteen years should be a testament to creative marriage rules.”

“Crowley has been married to the same woman for nineteen years?”  Cas is utterly shocked at the thought.

“This fall will be their twentieth anniversary.  I know because Collette is helping Hannah plan a huge party in Las Vegas.”

“Why Vegas?”  Castiel knows plenty of places in New York to host such events.

“That is the MacLeod home base.  They both travel a lot for work, but Las Vegas is home with the kids.”

Castiel almost screams, “They have children?!?”

Cain breaks out in laughter, “Yes, a girl and a boy.  I believe the oldest, Krissy, is fifteen and Inias is twelve.  Crowley is very different individual at home.”

“Huh?  Who would have thought it?  Fergus MacLeod is a family man.”  Dean rolls over, flopping onto Cas’s chest.  The dancer absentmindedly strokes his boyfriends back.

“It seems you have your hands full, but please, take the time to say Hi.”

Castiel agrees with the bounce of his raven hair.  This information has given him fuel for thought to pass the next several hours.

****

Castiel is totally in a state of bewilderment after traveling for two days.  They landed at JFK airport over two hours ago.  Customs was a nightmare, but they are finally through.  He’s holding Dean’s hand as the two men trail behind Meg and Sam.  Bobby has a car service waiting to drive them home, but first to baggage claim.  It appears while they were away, Gadreel and Charlie moved all his belongings to Dean’s apartment and Meg’s stuff to Sam’s.  It seems a bit rushed to him, especially since the office apartment is only in escrow.   

The dancer is itchy, cranky, and in dire need of a shower.  Cas slept maybe three hours on the plane, and he can’t remember the last time he brushed his teeth.  Dean’s a little twitchy, his eyes scanning everywhere looking for a threat, but he hasn’t attacked anyone so that’s a plus.  Castiel has discovered that if he keeps physical contact with the hunter, it appeases both their fears.

Crowley is a few feet to the right of them, chatting with Abaddon.  He only hears bits and pieces about replacing Dick on a massive business deal they had together.  When the crew hits the public area of baggage claim, a slender woman with brown hair practically jumps on Macleod.  Cas assumes this must be Hannah.  Her hair is in a taut bun and she’s wearing a nicely tailored blue suit with a skirt, pretty much what you would expect from a lawyer.  Dean goes off to grab their bags, letting Castiel gawk at the couple.  The MacLeod’s are in a passionate kiss.  Wow, after nineteen years they still got some fire.  As the two separate, Crowley tugs her hair out of the bun, letting it fall to her shoulders as he lovingly strokes the locks.  God, who knew Fergus has a romantic side. 

Hannah’s gaze catches Castiel’s and his heart stops.  Her pale blue eyes match his.  The dancer observes as she tilts her head to the side in a very familiar pose, staring at him.  It’s like Hannah is connecting dots only she can see.  Crowley follows her line of sight, and before he can introduce them, Hannah steps right into Castiel’s personal space and whispers, “Jimmy?”


	25. Until We Bleed by Kleerup with Lykke Li

 

“Do you want to open it, or should I?”  Dean asks as his eyebrows furrow in concern.

Castiel sighs shutting his eyes.  A week ago he met Hannah.  Jetlagged and stinky, the dancer came face to face with someone claiming to be his sister.  Mrs. MacLeod was so adamant about her belief, that the next day she had a DNA test delivered to Dean’s apartment by currier.  Now his hunter stands next to him holding the results.

Cas delves deeper into the comforter on their bed.  They were having such a lovely Friday morning. He and Dean, naked with one simple goal, lick every inch of skin, steering clear of the crotch area until someone yells uncle.  Of course, Dean was on the verge of screaming the word when a knock at the door disturbed the game.  “Screw that, I want to finish what we started.” 

He reaches out trying to yank off the green running shorts that are hindering his access to prime, Dean Winchester cock.  His boyfriend side steps, “Cas.  This is important; now answer the question.”

“No.”  The dancer shoots his lower lip out, giving the best pout face he can manage.  “You promised no clothes for 24 hours.”

Dean drops the shorts, freeing his partially hard dick, but Castiel can work with that.  He tilts off the bed, desperately needing to have just a taste.  “I’ll make a deal with you babe.  We expose this secret, and then I will eat out your ass.”

“Fucker.”  Cas growls, his hunter has yet to return that one special favor, Dean alleging that he is unsure about the activity.  The dancer has been very vocal on how desperate he is to learn about it firsthand or tongue, as the case may be.  “That’s just mean, Winchester.”

His sexy emerald beauty licks his lips slowly, “I might be horrible at it.”  The bastard now dragging his pink tongue over his teeth, “I’m thinking pancakes for brunch.  We can talk later.”

“Freeze.”  He mumbles hating the growing smirk on Dean’s delicious mouth.  “You open it.”

His hunter doesn’t even wait for further instructions as he tears into the white envelope.  Cas chews ferociously on his inner cheek, drawing blood.  This changes everything.  He would know where he came from, and maybe understand what happened to him.  He wrings his fingers together as Dean scans the letter.  “It’s a match.”

“What?”  Shock, absolute mind melting shock.

“Cas, Hannah is your biological, older sister.”  Dean is grinning with excitement, but when he spots the trepidation in his angel’s eyes, he stops.  “Is this not a good thing?”

Castiel shrugs, unable to find the words.  His entire world just flipped upside down and the dancer is just thrilled he’s keeping his shit together.

“Granted that means you get Fergus MacLeod as a brother-in-law.  Well damn, that means when we get married I become related to Crowley.  Ugh!”  Dean scrunches his face in disgust, but Cas stopped listening after ‘when we get married’.

He raises his pointer finger emphasizing each word, “What did you just say?”

The other man looks at Castiel confusion evident, “Kind of common sense here Cas.  You are now…”

“No, no, no.  The part about _WHEN_ we get married?”  Suddenly Dean understands as his cheeks glow crimson.  “Did I miss a certain question and a ring?”

Cas is battling not to laugh because he has never seen his boyfriend this flustered, “Slip of the tongue.  I meant if we ever decide to tie the knot, which is totally a viable option in the state of New York.  Not that I researched it of course.”  Dean is mumbling so fast his tongue may catch fire.  “Also, why do you get the engagement ring?  My finger would look lovely with a diamond on it.”

He presses his lips against Dean’s just to get the man to shut up.  “First, breathe.”  Cas waits while his boyfriend inhales deeply several times before holding up two digits.  “Second, is this something we are actually discussing?  Like for real?”  The dancer holds his lovers chin, scratching at the heavy scruff, “Lastly, I was kidding about the ring.”

“Jesus Cas, I had this whole big evening planned.”  Dean kneels down in front of Cas’s naked form, grabbing a small blue box with a white bow from under the bed.

Immediately Castiel covers his eyes with his palms.  “No, I didn’t see anything.  I want the romantic gesture.”  He can’t help but peek through his fingers.  Is that a baby blue Tiffany’s box?  And why does Dean hide every fucking thing in his mattress?

“Give me your hand, Cas.”

“No.”  He squeezes his eyelids tight.  Maybe if the dancer wishes hard enough he can go back in time.  Castiel seizes the noise of ribbon being untied.  “If that’s a blue Tiffany’s box do NOT harm it in anyway.”

“It’s just a stupid box.  Now quit stalling and give me your hand.”

Cas complies to the request, his heart bursting with excitement.  His eyes fly open when he feels the solid band slip over his left ring finger.  “Castiel Novak aka Jimmy Milton.”

“Not funny Dean.”

“Too soon?”  Green orbs are glimpsing up at him, the light dancing over his gorgeous face.

“Just a smidge.”

Dean clears his throat, “My angel, this is only the beginning to our amazing love story.  Will you marry me?”

“Yes, Dean.”  The ring finds its permanent place on his digit as Dean rises to kiss him so roughly his toes curl.  “I love you.”

His fiancé envelops him in a fierce embrace with an affectionate tone, “I wish there was a word stronger than love because, Cas, love doesn’t even start to say it.  You are my entire world, now and forever.”

He can’t help but peer down at the platinum silver band.  It has a single, deeply set diamond with an emerald to the left and a sapphire to the right.  Castiel smiles as tears fill his eyes.  Blue orbs gleam green ones which are crying as well.  “You are my everything, Dean Winchester.”

“Good, now that we have the chic flick moment over.  Bend over babe, I owe you something.”

Castiel has never moved faster in his life.

****

Unfortunately, Cas is not spending Saturday night sans clothes with his HOT fiancé.   Jesus, Castiel cannot stop thinking about that magical word.  He’s engaged to those emerald beauties and fine taut body.  However, here the dancer stands outside of the MacLeod’s front door, waiting to be let inside.  This morning another currier arrived with an invitation to dinner for both he and Dean.  Cas has been torn all day between getting answers about his past, and Dean nude.  Not to mention having seen his new brother-in-law in the buff multiple times is just making his stomach turn.  God, his life is so bizarre.

The door swings open and Castiel peers into blue orbs that match his own.  “Hi guys!  Please come in.”  Hannah’s voice is cheery, and her smile is warm and welcoming.

The invitation said casual, so he and Dean went with jeans and t-shirts.  Well Dean added a green Henley because supposedly just a shirt is scandalous.  Hannah is in a neatly pressed khaki skirt with a baby blue, short-sleeved button down.  She looks adorable with her hair in a ponytail, again total opposite to her husband’s black suit and red tie.  “Hello boys!  Sorry about the suit, I came straight from a business meeting.”

The mind bogglingly huge apartment is spic and span, without a single item out of place.  The floors are black and white checkered, which is the color scheme throughout, along with touches of bright red.  Cas glances back at Crowley realizing the man actually matches the room.  Fergus must wear the black and red combo enough that Hannah chose to decorate the home around him.  Next to the long black dining room table sits a shiny white, baby grand piano.  The dancer hasn’t played in years, but his fingers still itch to touch the beautiful instrument.

They are all shaking hands when Crowley spots the addition to Cas’s hand.  Fergus winks, “Ah, so Dean finally put a ring on it.”

Hannah’s eyes nearly shoot out of her head, “What?!?  I get to plan a wedding!  Should we have it here or in Vegas?”

“Here.”  Dean replies suspiciously, “Why would we have OUR wedding in Vegas?”

“So Anna can come of course.”  Hannah answers like it’s completely evident.

Cas turns to Crowley for clarification, “Anna?”

“Surprise!  You didn’t just get one sister but two.”  Fergus emphasizes the comment with jazz hands.

Dean pulls out the chair for Cas as he speaks, “Is Anna afraid to fly, because I totally get it.”

“No,” Crowley drops to his own chair.  As Hannah disappears into what is most likely the kitchen.  “She’s been a bit of a pill lately, so there is no way she’ll get more than a day pass.”

“A day pass?”  Cas and Dean query in unison.

Macleod nods, “From her nut house.”

“Fergus!”  Hannah is back with two plates and a scowl on her face.  She places the food in front of him and Dean.  “Anna lives at a mental health facility south of Las Vegas.  I had hoped,” Hannah glares at her husband, “to have time to explain her situation first.”

Then Mrs. MacLeod is off for two more plates, leaving the men to sit in silence, a very uncomfortable silence.  Cas glimpses his meal of cheeseburger, French fries, and corn on the cob.  Crowley leans over confessing, “She never lets me eat this.  I’m assuming it’s a Castiel favorite.”

“Yes.”  Cas answers as it dawns on him that his sister made the food especially for him. 

Once Hannah is seated, Dean, of course, charges directly towards the elephant in the room, “So what’s up with Anna?”

Their hostess takes a bite of her burger, chewing slowly before she responds.  “She has been in and out of psychiatric care since she was 13.”

Castiel wipes his mouth with the black cloth napkin.  “What happened?”

Crowley stands, dragging his chair to sit close to Hannah, taking her hand into his, “Just tell the story love, he needs to know.”

A faint smile touches his sister’s, lips but her eyes are full of tension and sorrow.  “I guess we should start at the beginning.”

All three men nod, encouraging her to continue, “Two months after my first birthday, our father went to prison for ten years… a bank robbery gone wrong.  While he was away, Anna was conceived; she is our half sister.  A product of a one-night stand, or a John, I’m not entirely sure, but that is not really important.  Mom struggled to keep a roof over our head and worked two jobs to make ends meet.  When I was eleven, Dad was released from prison.  He hated that Anna existed.  She reminded him of other men touching Mom.  Anyways, after a couple months he left us.  Nine months later, you came along, Jim…Castiel.”

The room is deathly quiet as Hannah sips some water.  Castiel is on the edge of his seat.  He can tell the story is not a happy one, but God, just knowing anything about his missing years is a blessing, maybe. 

Crowley pats her arm, giving his wife a loving kiss to the temple.  She captures Castiel’s gaze before speaking, “Feeding, clothing, and housing three children was difficult.  We lived on the shittier end of Brooklyn in a studio apartment.  Mom worked constantly, so I was your caretaker.  One night, when I was sixteen, our mother became very ill, appendicitis I think.  An ambulance came and took her to the hospital, leaving me with you and Anna.  The diner where Mom worked called saying she would lose her job if I didn’t cover her shift.  I had done it before when she had the flu, so I left our sister, who was merely thirteen; home alone with a three year old toddler.”

Castiel doesn’t remember any of this.  Not the apartment or his sisters or even his mother.  A small part of him feels guilty because he’s glad for the blank slate he was given.  His childhood memories are of a large, four bedroom house in Syracuse New York with a loving mom and dad.  His recollections are packed with laughing, hugs, teasing his brothers, and playing chase with Meg in the backyard. 

Tears are streaming from his older sister’s eyes.  “I left the restaurant around 3am when they didn’t need me anymore.  It took ten minutes to walk home, but when I got back, I knew something was horribly wrong.  The front door was cracked, letting some light spill out into the dark hallway.  I pushed open the door and saw Anna unconscious on the floor, a gash on her head.  Her pajamas were in shreds around her limp body.  We never saw you again Jim…Castiel.”

Hannah sobs from the imagery in her head as Crowley finishes the story, taking her into his arms.  “Anna never recovered from that night.  The state committed her for the first time a few weeks later.  Your mom died by her own hand soon after, but by then I had found my girl here, and the second she turned 18, we got married.”  MacLeod strokes his wife’s back as his stare claims Castiel’s.  “She never stopped looking for you.  My sweet Hannah became a lawyer, focusing on victim’s rights with you in mind the entire time.”

“I thought she was this scary attorney for the mob?”  Dean asks.  Castiel is curious because that’s what Sam had told him.

“Victim’s rights work pays shit, so yes, she does both.  The connection to seedier individuals gives her better access than the police when searching for missing persons.  Those crap filled rumors about her being a heartless bitch were started by wankers who have faced her in the courtroom.”  Crowley shoots both men a steely look, “Is that a problem?”

“No,” they both reply hastily.

In time, Hannah calms down and the rest of the meal is uneventful.  Castiel views multiple photos of his new family, particularly his niece and nephew, and even a handful of pictures featuring a stunning red head with a lost smile.  He doesn’t get all the answers he wanted, but definitely a step in the right direction.

As they head out, Castiel leans in, embracing his sister without a touch of hesitation.  She smells like lavender, which is nice.  Neither sibling wants to move, so they just hold tight for several seconds.  While in her arms, Hannah offers her help, “Crowley told me all about Lucifer.  I read the court transcripts.  There are people that can eliminate the problem.”

“No Hannah, let it go.”  He finally pulls back, staring deeply into her blue gems, “I don’t want to drag you into this.”

“Castiel,” Hannah holds his face softly “I’m your older sister, it’s my job.”

Dean wraps his arm over Cas’s shoulders protectively, “We will keep you posted.  I promise.”

***

The elevator ride is silent.  Dean tugs the dancer into his space, kissing him chastely, “Don’t over think this babe.  You were three years old.”

“Damn you, Dean.”  It’s like the man can read his thoughts.  He was just fretting over the idea of Anna locked away in an institution, and here he is content with Dean.  Life isn’t fair.  “I need a drink.”

They exit the elevator as Dean nods in the direction of Benny.  The bodyguard spent dinner sitting in the lobby.  The man takes his position several paces behind them as they stroll out to the street.  The MacLeod abode isn’t far from Dean’s apartment, just a few blocks over, sitting right on Madison Avenue.  The view from their apartment is gorgeous, overlooking the Met.  “We will pass a little dive I know on our way home, but two drinks tops.  Its’ been a brutal night.”

“Seriously.”  Cas sighs, releasing his left hand to link with Dean’s.  The city is bustling with people out enjoying the bars and restaurants on a Saturday night.  It’s not even 10pm, so for NYC it’s quite early.  Even with the dripping humidity of New York in July, Cas tucks in a little tighter to his fiancé.  This man is his rock, his love, his reason for breathing. 

The two men stop at the corner of Park and 80th, waiting for the light to change.  A large group has formed, not uncommon for this area.  Benny is here somewhere, but for the moment, Cas can’t see him, which sends a wave of dread over his skin.  That’s when everything goes sideways.

A strange man yanks Cas forward, palming the dancer’s ass harshly.  His mouth is rancid, the scent of a cigar heavy on his filthy clothes.  The old guy’s voice is rough like sandpaper as he whispers into Castiel’s ear, “This is the way the world ends, not with a bang, but a whimper.”

Then he’s gone, darting out into traffic with a wicked giggle, leaving Castiel cold and nervous.  The man touched him and it was terrifying to the dancer.  Cas hears screaming, but realizes quickly it’s not coming from him.  His eyes look back towards Dean and his heart halts, no longer beating.  His fiancé is bleeding.   The hunter is clutching his left bicep as red goo trickles between those beautiful fingers.  The green Henley floods with crimson. 

He needs air but the dancer’s lungs freeze.

Cas stumbles back, tripping over the curb.  He remains standing by some unseen force.  Screeching tires erupt near him, but his brain won’t do anything but take in the sight of Benny dialing 911 as Dean curses and screams over his wound.  There is so much blood.

Someone groped him and stabbed Dean.

The angel is having a full-on panic attack as his body completely revolts from lack of oxygen.  An unfamiliar hand shoves him back to the sidewalk.  Who the hell would do this?  Everything is spinning as Cas attempts to piece together the obvious.

Someone fondled his ass.

Someone hurt Dean.

His mind finally liberates the answer, Nick. 

Castiel’s vision begins to blur as his lungs still refuse to follow a simple fucking command.  He is losing his battle with consciousness.  Dean yells, “Cas!”  But it feels so far away, like Lucifer has already snatched him from his lover’s side.  The T.S. Eliot quote flashes through his brain; _this is the way the world ends.  Not with a bang, but a whimper._

“Cas!”

“Cas!”

“Castiel!”

This is his fault.  Their perfect world is being torn to shreds by a madman because of him.  All that Castiel loves is in danger.  His fiancé grabs him as Cas claws at the hunter’s chest, searching for any remnants of safety.

Sirens are blaring nearby as Dean shakes the dancer shouting, “Castiel, babe, you need to breathe!”

‘ _Not this time, my love,_ ’ and the darkness swallows him whole.      

 

 


	26. No Rest for the Wicked by Lykke Li

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song for this chapter is amazing for setting the mood.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLd_xfPGGB-BxmxK0R2ldoJIz2ruXXuPYp

 

Castiel’s eyelids flutter open just a tad.  He doesn’t recognize the bright lights above him.  Ugly florescent ones that hurt his retinas making him squint in pain.  The dancer’s head throbs.  It’s not in a specific place like with an injury, but a loud banging that won’t leave.  Where the fuck is he?  Cas scans the room concluding that he’s in the hospital.  The final few minutes before he passed out rush through his mind. 

A horrid man was groping him.  Dean was bleeding.  Castiel rockets up to sitting as he cries, “Dean!”

“Shhh Castiel.  It’s okay.”  He turns his head, glimpsing Meg’s long dark curls brushing over his arm.  “Dean is getting his arm stitched up.  The cut was clean, but deep.  He will be fine.”

The dancer curls into her embrace as his friend climbs in bed with him.  “I need to see him, Meg.  Please?”

“Mr. Novak?”  A woman in a tight purple sweater with jeans steps into his room.  She has short dark hair and piercing brown eyes, but the badge hanging around her neck catches his attention first.  “I’m Detective Mills, NYPD.  Can I get a statement from you about the incident?”

Meg growls, “I fucking told you to leave him alone.  He needs rest, and to check on his fiancé, not to answer your ridiculous questions.”

The detective dramatically rolls her eyes, “Mam, it will take five minutes, and then I’m out of your hair.  Nobody wants near this case, and I drew the damn short straw.”  The cop sighs with annoyance, gritting her teeth with a smirk, “So please, a statement Mr. Novak.”

“Why?  Because they are gay?  Nobody wants to help the two...” Meg lashes out.  God Mama bear Masters is a force to be reckoned with; the daggers from her gaze could kill.

“NO!”  Mills raises her hand to halt the brunette’s tirade.  “I don’t care where he shoves the happy stick; however, when Hannah MacLeod is sitting in my Captain’s office demanding answers I have to ask the right questions.”

A grin spreads over Cas’s lips.  His sister moves fast.  “I don’t know how I can help.  I barely recall what happened.”

“We have several eyewitness accounts.”  The woman glances down at a notepad yanked from her back pocket.  “It seems there were two assailants.  An older gentleman who distracted you, Mr. Novak, then a young female wearing a blue ball cap used an extremely large knife to slice through Mr. Winchester’s upper arm.”

Castiel jerks his head in agreement.  Another wave of shivers hits him, “That sounds right.  I never saw the girl.  The man was maybe late fifties, graying hair, short, but messy.  He was wearing thick, black glasses and smelled of cigars.  That’s all I know; can I go see Dean now?”

“Did the guy say anything to you?”

“Not really, he was drunk and mumbling.”  The dancer has no idea why he lied.  Maybe because there is no reason to waste man-hours tracking down some bum that Nick paid to spout T.S. Eliot.  “I’m sorry but my head is pounding.  We are done.”

Meg leaps from the bed to face Mills, “Out!  Or my next move will be to call Hannah.  I’m sure harassing Mrs. Macleod’s baby brother is not a good thing.”

“Thank you for your time.”  The detective almost stumbles trying to flee the room.  Damn, having a scary older sister has its advantages.

His friend is holding the door open, still peering down the hall laughing.  Castiel pats down his jeans, trying to find his phone when he feels something in his back pocket.  He retrieves a folded white piece of paper that wasn’t there earlier.  Meg mentions needing to pee so Cas simply nods, opening the note.  The dancer recognizes the handwriting immediately as a chill travels down his spine.  It’s from Nick.  The old man must have slipped it in his jeans when he was palming Castiel’s butt.  It takes all of the angel’s strength not to have a second panic attack as he reads the words of his rapist.

_Come at dawn, my sweet boy or next time it’s his throat_

_34 Desbrosses Street_

The apartment number is missing, but Castiel doesn’t need it.  He can find the loft where he was held captive, without assistance.  Cas knows from experience that the space is soundproof and has a cell signal blocker in the guest closet; once he enters, he will be cut off from the world.  There is only one choice here, and it’s horrifying.  The dancer can’t let Lucifer hurt anyone else.  The sadistic bastard could go after Dean again, or God forbid, Meg and her unborn child.  No one is safe unless Castiel stops playing the victim, and saves the day all on his own.

He drags his hands over the scruff on his chin.  Well, the tricky part is going to be ditching emerald eyes that will follow him anywhere.  Carefully he shreds the paper, tossing it into the wastebasket as Meg returns, “Ready to go see your man, Clarence?”

“Absolutely.”  His dear friend glides her hand into his, leading him down the hall.

“Oh hey, I was holding this for you.”  Meg pulls the dancer’s phone from her purse.  Castiel glances at the screen 12:10am, then he hastily Googles daybreak for tomorrow, 6:18am.  Six hours, Cas has just enough time to protect those he loves.

The two turn a corner, virtually plowing into Sam.  “Hey, I was coming to look for you guys.  Castiel, are you feeling better?”

“Yes, much.”  Sam’s face is drawn tight, full of concern over his family.  “How is Dean?”

“Oh you know him; it’s just a little flesh wound.  Although, eleven stitches is nothing to blow off.”

Castiel smiles.  His hunter is one tough son of a bitch.  “Thank you for sitting with him Sam.”

“No problem.  It’s late and Meg needs her rest, so if your okay?”

“Of course.”  The dancer hugs his friends good bye before turning to his fiancé’s room.

Guilt pours through his veins as he enters.  He is the cause of Dean’s pain.  His tone is more like a plea towards forgiveness, “Dean.”

The elder Winchester perches on a hospital bed, shirtless, while a doctor applies bandages to his bicep.  A truly loving and relieved smile fills his hunter’s expression, reaching the emerald beauties.  “Cas!  Come here babe.”

The dancer doesn’t have to be told twice as he dashes across the space crashing into Dean’s open side.  Castiel presses his nose into the crook of his fiancés neck, sniffling.  A wave of emotion boils over as Cas whines into his lover’s skin.  “Dean, I was so worried.  I am sorry.”

Powerful, bare arms envelope him as Dean mouths softly into his ear, “We are both fine.  That’s all that matters.”  Cas plants his lips heavily onto his fiancé’s, diving his tongue deep into the recesses of that fucking incredible mouth. 

The ticking clock in his mind finally rips Cas’s mouth away.  “So when can I take him home Doctor?”

“We just need to finish up the paperwork and give him a prescription for pain meds.  Maybe twenty minutes?”

“Excellent,” then a very sinister idea blossoms in the dancer’s brain.  Dean is redressing to leave, so Cas drops his voice, hoping only the doctor can hear.  “My fiancé takes sleeping pills at night to help him rest.  Can he mix that with the painkillers?”

“Should be fine.  I will prescribe something that won’t react badly, but realize he will be out cold for hours, most likely 6 to 8 minimum.”

“Thank you.  Is there a 24 hour pharmacy here in the building?”

“Yeah, second floor.  The nurse can give you directions.”

Castiel swivels back to grin affectionately at Dean.  Perfect.

****

It’s a quarter to two by the time he and Dean eventually stagger into their bedroom.  “Hey, how tired are you?”

“Why, you horny?”  The hunter winks with a naughty smirk.  “I could be swayed to stay up a little longer.”

“Good.”  Cas assaults his lover’s mouth needy for every kiss, the taste, the feel, the connection to his hunter.  The minutes keep floating away, lost to the past never to be seen again.  The dancer has no idea what the dawn will bring, but here, right now, he has the love of his life.  If this is goodbye it will be a fucking awesome one.  “Stand still.”

“We haven’t played this game in a while.”  Dean’s eyes soften when he gleams anxious blue orbs.  “Cas?  You okay?”

“Yes, speaking of games.”  He skims their bedroom, spotting a black silk blindfold.  “Put this on.”

Dean’s furrows his brow in a questioning glance, “What’s going on babe?”

“I’m just spooked from earlier.  Do you want to play my game or not?”  Castiel shoves the fabric into the hunter’s chest.

“Sure.”  His fiancé obeys, covering the emerald gems.  Cas inhales deeply, there was no way he could keep a fake smile on his face.  Now he can enjoy the touch of his lover without worrying about Dean catching on.  “Should I undress?”

“No let me, also, no talking.”  The hunter nods silently.  Castiel’s voice will soon betray him; therefore, staying quiet is his only option.

Castiel’s most precious gift stands in the center of their bedroom.  The dancer’s not naïve, Dean suspects something, yet there is little chance he will piece it together to do anything about it.  He checks the alarm clock, 2:04am.  Cas can take his time memorizing every inch before he visits his worst nightmare.

Gradually, he takes off Dean’s blood stained Henley and under shirt, his lover flinching when the fabric grazes over his injury.  The pale lamp on the nightstand gently illuminates the bedroom, throwing shadows to the far wall.  It reminds Cas of their first untouched kiss.  A painful grimace swallows his face.  This is why he needed the blindfold. 

The hunter’s skin is beautiful; a sun-kissed, golden glow with a peppering of freckles.  Using the pads of his fingers, the dancer traces constellations over the silky skin.  When he reaches the dark lines of their matching tattoo, Castiel follows the path created by Gadreel.  Dean tilts into his caress, barely moving except to follow Cas’s touch.  The angel saves the bandaged area for last.  His heart aches as his digits skate across the white fabric.  Castiel stills with the vision of Dean bleeding on the street, but this time the red oozes from his neck.

In time, his fingers find the button to Dean’s jeans, undoing that and the zipper below.  Crouching to his knees, Cas reverently removes the rest of his lover’s clothes, pausing to give kisses to the newly exposed skin.  The only sound is a loving purr from both men.

Castiel doesn’t want to break the spell with speech, so he places his hands on Dean’s hips, pushing softly forward until Dean collapses onto the bed.  The dancer divulges himself of clothing, snagging a bottle of lube from his dresser.  He lays the liquid next to Dean as Cas creeps up the gorgeous body under him, planting licks, bites, and kisses along the journey.  As he arrives at the hunter’s mouth, Castiel lowers onto Dean, smashing their lips into one.  Flesh crashes into flesh taking the angel’s breath away.  His fiancé’s fingers stroke Castiel’s back, shoulders, and arms.  The two men open their mouths, tasting the other’s tongue, letting their desires lead this dance.

The angel seizes the lube, knocking Dean’s thighs apart to make room.  Cas distracts his lover with deep, lustful thrusts of the tongue as he enters the tight hole with a single digit.  The hunter hums in approval, but keeps his promise of silence. 

Castiel’s right hand works to stretch Dean as his left explores the endless buffet of skin.  His lover hisses when the angel accidentally bumps his wounded bicep.  The noise renewing his belief that this is all Cas’s fault.  He sets a slow, easy pace, stoking the fire in them both with acutely tender touches.  Later, his tongue guides the expedition of his Winchester while adding a second finger to the hunter’s ass.  When an awful assault of trembling ravishes Cas’s body, Dean embraces him tightly, wielding his good arm.  His fiancé hushes him gently until the dancer is ready to move forward, adding the third finger to finish scissoring open his lover.  

He lines his cock up, flush against the hunter’s opening.  Jesus fucking Christ, he wants this forever.  The mere idea that this may be the last time causes his hands to quiver as he slicks up his cock.  Castiel steels himself with several deep breathes.  God, he loves Dean Winchester with his entire soul.  Permitting that thought to ghost through his mind, he inches inside.  Heat, pure and inviting, surrounds his dick as a feral growl erupts from his throat.  The angel will sacrifice everything for the man in his bed.

He holds tight once completely sheathed, allowing Dean to adjust.  Castiel bites into his own lip, desperate to keep it together.  Tears are threatening at the corners of his eyes, burning into him.  A tiny double tap to his shoulder distracts his contemplation, the hunter expressing his readiness for the dancer.  Sweeping his hips in a rolling motion, Cas soothingly dips in and out of his lover.  He smirks, aware of the exact sweet spot in the hunter, hitting it with laser accuracy.

“Fuck Cas.”  Dean moans his tone low and sultry.

A silent prayer trickles into his consciousness, keeping him sane while worshipping Dean.  _Please Lord Almighty bring me home, let me have this again._ The addictive sensation of fucking his fiancé takes over as he quickens his pace.  The hunter’s fingernails scratch heavily down his back, marking his skin, and laying claim to what is Dean’s.  Castiel snakes his palm down to Dean’s dick, stroking it harshly until both men are lost to their own orgasms.  The angel whimpering softly into his lover’s neck as Dean shouts, “I love you Cas!”

Castiel kisses Dean in response.  There is distraught fear in every swipe of his tongue.  The gorgeous man rips off his blindfold locking eyes with the angel. 

“Cas, you gotta tell me what the hell is going on.  Babe, you are shivering like it’s thirty below in here.”  The hunter nuzzles their noses together in an adorable loving gesture.  “Talk to me.”

He takes a cleansing breath, he can do this.  “I will, but first take your medicine.”  Cas snags the bottle of water and two pills on the nightstand, handing them over to his fiancé.  The dancer closes his eyes as Dean obeys, totally trusting his angel. 

“Are you sure it’s two?”  A ridiculous question for after he’s taken them both.

The dancer fights every urge in his body to confess.  “It will help you sleep, Dean.  I talked with the Doctor; he said it would be best.”  He timidly cards his fingers through dark blonde tresses, savoring the last moments with emerald orbs, coercing a faux grin to his lips in hopes of calming his hunter’s nerves. 

 “Don’t lie to me, something is wrong.”  There is a building anger in his tone.  A tension packed giggle explodes from Castiel’s throat.  His kindhearted lover is too late. “Damn it Cas, we can fix this.”

He places a chaste kiss to the man’s forehead, uttering, “Dean, it’s not broken.”  Castiel’s voice fractures on his favorite name, a violent sob bursting from his traitorous mouth.

The two men stare, moisture soaking their cheeks, neither one breaching the connection, locked in a game of willpower.  Steadily, over time, Dean’s eyelids begin to droop.  Cas will win this contest, but the prize is dangerous and foreboding, absolutely nothing he would ever want.  Moments before the hunter drifts off to castles in the sky, he mutters, “Forever Cas.”

 Embracing his lover the angel weeps, his heart shattering into thousands of pieces.  Castiel spins the sleeping man so his head rests on the dancer’s chest.  Taking his pointer finger, he discovers every freckle on Dean’s glorious face.  With each lift of his digit he reiterates his promise to the hunter, “I will be back.”

A little after four, Cas rises from the bed, dressing in a clean pair of jeans and a black t-shirt.  He takes a few minutes to tuck his hunter in tight.  Then he strides into the kitchen to grind a sleeping pill, adding it to a cup of decaf coffee.  Thank God Benny drinks his coffee with ten scoops of sugar.  It will hide the bitter taste of the medicine. 

Putting on the fakest smile in his arsenal, Castiel pops his head out the front door.  “Hey Benny, I was up checking on Dean and thought you might want some caffeine.”

“Yes, thank you brother.  These last few hours are the worst.”  The bodyguard takes the hot beverage, gulping it down hastily. 

“Do you want to hang inside while you drink it?  Change of scenery at least.”

Cas opens the door wider as Benny enters.  “I’ll just come in for a quick snack.”

“Sure, can I make you some toast?”  Cas pops the bread into the toaster, watching as Benny sits on Dean’s crappy folding chairs.  Really they need to get an actual dining room set.  He stops himself mid-thought, realizing what may never be.  Castiel jerks his head hoping to clear the ideas that threaten to keep him planted in this apartment. 

He is spreading jam over the toast when a loud clatter comes from the other room.  Castiel takes several bites as he glimpses the snoring Louisiana man.  The empty mug rests on the hardwood floor.  Chewing on his lower lip, he can only wish that Dean doesn’t take out his rage on Benny.  Castiel moves the larger man to the ground so he will sleep more comfortably.  No reason for the poor guy to wake with a crick in his neck.

Next stop is the coat closet which houses the supplies he needs.  First, one of Dean’s grey hoodies will help to obscure his build and hide his face.  Second, a pair of latex gloves from the first-aid kit.  If by the grace of God, he makes it out alive, he can’t leave fingerprints behind.  Lastly, the dainty revolver Dean taught him to shoot.  His hunter keeps it on the top shelf, loaded for Castiel’s protection.  He stifles a laugh at the bizarre twist of events. 

Shoving the gloves into his front pocket, he tugs out his phone.  He sets the cell on the kitchen table by Benny’s head.  There can never be a digital trail of where he’s going.  Castiel buries the gun flat against his spine, using the waistband of his jeans to keep it there.  The cold, hard metal touching his skin startles him. 

This is real.

There is no turning back.

The dancer hovers in the doorway to the bedroom, observing the rise and fall of his lover’s chest.  God, Dean is going to be furious when he wakes.  All Castiel can do is pray that he will be there to meet those rage filled green eyes.  Time appears to halt as Cas tiptoes over to the bed.  Tilting over Dean, he kisses his smooth, silky lips, then with a hushed breath, “I love you.”

He ties his white converse sneakers, pulling the hood up over his head.  Smirking, he retrieves a coffee can from under the sofa finding several rolls of cash.  “Thank you John Winchester.”

Castiel takes a couple hundred for a taxi.  In his original plans, he was going to leave a note, but he hasn’t a clue what to write until a flare of inspiration hits him, so he snatches a sharpie marker, scrawling across the wall in the living room; _I am yours, forever, Dean Winchester._

This is it, time to go.  The dancer spins the platinum band on his left hand, refusing to strip the ring from his digit.  If he dies, it will be with Dean’s emerald watching over him.

Wiping away a few stray tears, Castiel disappears into the pre-dawn darkness.


	27. Nothing Else Matters by Lissie

 

Castiel rests his head against the window of the taxi, gazing out at the city he adores.  Neon lights and the warm glow from street lamps still illuminate the drive.  The sun has yet to peer over the horizon, marking his timeline.  His cabbie is listening to the radio; a new song begins catching the dancer’s attention.  Slow electric guitar riffs surround him like a blanket with a familiar tune pulling his mind away from dark thoughts.  A rich, cigarette-strained, woman’s voice begins to sing:

_So close no matter how far_

_Couldn’t be much more from the heart_

_Forever trusting who we are_

_And nothing else matters_

_Never opened myself this way_

_Life is ours, we live it our way_

_All these words I don’t just say_

_And nothing else matters_

Glancing down, Cas twists the ring on his finger while both his knees bounce wildly.  Whatever happens, he made this choice on his own to save Dean.  His hunter matters, the love he shares with that amazing man in the end, that’s what matters.  Nick can go to hell.  A smirk spreads across the angel’s lips because the gun pressing against his spine can help accomplish that task.

Castiel asks the taxi driver to drop him a block away from his intended location.  The dancer wants to walk up to the building, giving himself the chance to adjust at a slower pace.  He hasn’t been on this street since the ambulance took him away.  Gradually, Cas approaches the address; the sky has just a sliver of pink to the horizon.  He realizes he doesn’t have a watch, but waiting outside is a horrible idea.  It will just give his mind time to think of all the outcomes in the next hour. 

The lofts in this part of SoHo don’t have doormen.  Probably a plus to sadistic kidnappers, but there is a door with a keypad to get in.  Nick didn’t give him any codes, so Cas just stands glaring at the front door, like a lost little puppy.  Suddenly Lucifer’s sense of humor reminds him the most likely candidate.  He types in 0666 and the door buzzes, granting him access.  This guy is such a douche.

Believing he has the time to spare, Castiel takes the stairs up to the third floor.  The panic starts to set in the second his feet land in front of apartment 3B.  Taking in a deep breath, Cas releases it slowly trying to still his mind, and lower his heartbeat.  Losing consciousness is out of the question.  That would be like spreading his naked body over a buffet line and yelling ‘come and get it’.  His hands are trembling, his heart refusing to listen as it pounds rapidly, and then Cas glimpses the emerald on his ring.  Everything halts and the world goes quiet, he can do this, he has to do this.  Without another thought, Castiel opens the door, entering the place of his worst nightmares.

The loft hasn’t changed much except for the fact that all the furniture has been removed.  To his right is a wall of windows overlooking the fire escape as the rising sun gives off the only light.  The 1500 square foot space is completely bare except for a dirty mattress in the center.  Castiel’s gaze locks onto the cheap, makeshift bed.  The dark crimson stains are all too familiar. 

“Such fun times we had together.  I got rid of the rest while I was away, but I had to keep our special spot.”  The angel starts at the sound of Lucifer’s teasing tone.  His rapist stands in the doorway to the walk-in closet, another area the dancer is extremely acquainted with.  Cas has no words; he just glares at the evil bastard.  In turn the other man scoffs at him, leaning into the doorjamb, crossing his arms with a sigh.  “It’s rude not to greet the host when you arrive.  I believe a hello is appropriate, or do you want to anger me this early?”

“This isn’t one of your high society parties, Nick.  Proper invitations tend to not include threats of physical violence.”  Cas surprises himself in how sturdy his voice sounds.  Maybe he can actually pull this off.

Nick tuts softly, scratching at his neck.  “I will let it slide this time, sweet boy, but be warned, I do not have the patience for any crap.”  His tormentor waves a hand gesturing to Cas.  “Now, you are wearing entirely too many clothes.”

“No.”  Castiel doesn’t budge an inch.  He’s standing a few feet into the room, but close enough to the front door to feel safe.  The angel shakes his head as well, “The note said to show up.  Here I am, but this is as far as I go, Nick.”  Castiel prides himself in the confident delivery, although his hands are still quivering just a tad.

“You are mine, you insolent child.  Do as you’re told!”

“I am **_not_** yours, I never was.”  The validity to his statement unchains the shackles that tethered him to the horrific memories of this man and that bed.  Cas has Dean.  Cas is loved, and whatever happens, that is the God’s honest truth.  The dancer straightens his posture, lifting his chin up to face the man eye to eye.  “Fuck you.  Your puppets strings have been cut.”

He observes as Lucifer clenches his teeth, grinding them harshly.  His tone dark and chilling, “Either you behave, or my friend here takes a drive over to visit sleeping beauty.”

It’s only then that Castiel’s stare falls on a blonde female standing behind Nick.  She steps into the room, passing Lucifer with a nod.  Wait!  The dancer has seen this woman before.  Moments later, the connection hits him square in the gut, “Lilith.”

The asshole has the audacity to chuckle, “Very good, my little toy.  I couldn’t let you jet off to another continent without supervision.  She reports that you have not been faithful.”

Castiel bursts into laughter.  He can’t help it; the insanity that this horrid human expected Cas to remain celibate for him is ridiculous.  The dancer’s body rolls with nervous laughter so violently, he fears the gun will slip from his back.  Tears are dripping onto his cheek, but Castiel is unsure whether they are from terror or humor.

“STOP!”  Lucifer shouts, sending a wave of panic through his veins.  The other man’s voice is still loud and sharp.  “You will obey!”

The dancer pulls air into his lungs trying to calm his howling fit, but his answer is dead on, “No.” 

Castiel is astonished at his ability to sound almost annoyed by the request.  This man, because at the end of the day that’s all he is, a pathetic, sad man, holds no authority over him.  It’s funny, there is a certain freedom when you have conceded to your fate.  He had no option but to appear before his personal Satan, but that’s where Cas’s power finally takes shape.  “I’m done.  Do whatever the hell you want, but you’re not touching me or Dean.”  He draws his gun, pointing it towards Lucifer and his whore.

“Silly child, you don’t even know how to fire a weapon.”  The bastard doesn’t even move, trying to show some resemblance of dominance in the situation, but Lilith raises her hands.

Castiel tilts his head in her direction, “You should ask your girl if I know how to use this?”

Lucifer sighs with impatience, “This is stupid.  Give me the gun before someone gets hurt.”  The man steps forward, reaching out like Castiel would actually hand over his revolver.

“Nick.”  Lilith pipes up, resting her hand on his shoulder.  “Dean has been training him.  I would appreciate not dying over your favorite plaything.”

“MY NAME IS CASTIEL!”  The dancer roars with fury.  He clasps the weapon with both hands, placing his digit on the trigger.  “Show me some fucking respect, or I will end you.”

His rapist moves slightly back, his hands elevating to mirror Lilith. “My my, well this is not how I thought our reunion would go, but honestly what good would it do for you to run off now?  I am just going to come after you both again.  And I promise you… C-A-S-T-I-E-L” he pronounces the dancer’s name with disdain, but crystal clear accuracy, “…your fuck buddy will be the first to depart this life, bloody and painfully.”

“Fiancé.  Get it right Nick; Dean is my fiancé.”  He swings his left hand up for emphasis, and then reattaches it to the weapon.

“Dean Winchester doesn’t deserve nice toys.  The idiot believed me when I told him that I ravaged your weak little hole so badly no one else can have you.”  The sly smirk is enough to make Castiel want to pull the trigger right then.

“Oh yes, thank you for that, I quite enjoy topping.”  Cas winks, playing up his sassy side.  He will not let this damned creature spoil his life with Dean.

The rage in the older man’s eyes would have destroyed Cas a few months ago; however, now the dancer can see the asshole is grasping for straws in a battle he will never win.  Although, Castiel should have guessed cornering a wild animal was a very bad idea.  “Dean Winchester is a dead man.”

It happens so fast that Cas will never remember everything, but he will always recall those ice cold blue eyes charging towards him.  The way his fingers tighten over the trigger, firing the gun at Nick’s mouth, silencing the asshole forever.  An ear-piercing bang will haunt his dreams for months, but the sight of a now faceless Lucifer collapsing to the cement is oddly calming.  He did it.  Satan returns to his cage in hell, and Castiel is finally free.

Lilith shrieks in a dark frenzy, her eyes seething.  Cas doesn’t have time to react as she storms at him full force.  The dancer braces for her oncoming assault.  Yet, she never makes it.  A small glass popping noise is the only sound before a blood red dot hits her forehead, dropping the lifeless blonde woman.

Movement near the window drags his focus away from the two corpses.  A man dressed entirely in black climbs into the space from the fire escape.  He has a stocky build with military cut, short brown hair.  The huge weapon with a silencer that the guy is holding terrifies the angel.  Castiel points his own gun at the intruder, “Who the hell are you?”

“Calm down, Jimmy.  I hate getting shot.”  The gentleman puts his firearm on the floor, standing with his hands up high in surrender.  “Look, your sister sent me.”

“I told Hannah to let me handle it.”  He’s waving the revolver in the air, which is clearly making the stranger twitch.

“Wrong sister.” 

“Anna?  She doesn’t have a dime to her name, how could she send you?”  Adrenaline is flooding the dancer’s system, making his fingers tremble violently.

“Jimmy, can you please put the gun down, and then I will answer all your questions.”

“My name is CASTIEL!”  He screams because Jesus Fucking Christ, people can be so damn rude.  The yelling helps a little as he sets the gun on the floor.

“Right, my bad.  Your sister has been talking about you for years, but that was before we learned your name.”  The other man holds his hand out to shake Cas’s, “Hi Castiel, I’m Cole Trenton.”

Out of habit, Castiel takes his palm, grasping it timidly.  “How do you know Anna?”

“I was a marine for awhile, when I got out, my head didn’t work so well.  I ended up on the same psych ward as my beautiful fire cracker.”

He is alone with a mentally unstable person and two freshly deceased bodies.  Speaking of, the headshots are bleeding heavily, creating nasty crimson halos.  “Umm, lovely story, but what do we do about them?”  He gestures down to the dripping dead.

“Well, the place is soundproof right?  So we have time.”

“Yes.  How do you know that?” 

“Didn’t hear the shot that took out Romeo.”  Cole stalks the space, mumbling to himself, and then finally acknowledges Castiel.  “I need your cell phone.”

“I left it back at Dean’s.  Who do you want to call?”

“Hannah.  She needs to send in a clean-up crew.”  Really, Cas is starting to question his excitement at joining this family of mob connections, killers, and easy access to a body disposal team.  Cole dials a number on his phone, and turns to the windows to discuss arrangements with Hannah.  Castiel can only catch bits and pieces of the conversation.

“He’s fine, Hannah.”

“Yeah, tell ‘um two, with a mess.”

Trenton swivels back, taking in Cas’s appearance, “Surprisingly well, given the circumstances.”

The dancer ignores the rest of the discussion as his attention drifts back to Lucifer and Lilith.  Shouldn’t he be feeling remorse right now?  Cas just shot a person, in the face, and yet he doesn’t have a single reaction.  The rush of adrenaline is subsiding, giving way to …nothing.  It’s like all his senses just shut down.  Exhaustion could be a likely culprit.  Castiel hasn’t slept in over 24 hours, and those were packed with mind jarring situations, and now he’s just numb.

There is a lot of blood, and clearly the two are merely rotting corpses, but Cas still is weary that Nick will leap up and attack him.  In the movies there is always that final strike from the villain.  Yet the only movement is the ever growing pool of red on the grey cement.

Without warning, the dancer vomits.  The room is spinning, and Castiel isn’t sure he can hang on much longer.

Cas needs Dean. 

He desires his lover’s strong, warm arms enveloping his body, blocking out the evil and making the dancer feel whole again.  A tiny tremor builds under Castiel’s skin as a cold wave takes hold of his body.  He squats down embracing his shins tightly, resting his cheek on his knees.  The dancer is certain he is going into shock, but there’s not much to be done about it.  He may have several layers of clothes over his body, but Cas feels naked all the same.

Cole is snapping fingers in front of the angel’s open blue eyes.  Castiel has no clue how long he’s been doing that, but the worry in the other’s man face should say a while at least.  “Hey Castiel, you doing okay?  Do you need something?”

The raven-haired man sits quietly for some time, pondering the bizarre question.  Is he okay?  Castiel has no idea how to answer that question.  Nick is gone, never to bother him or Dean again.  That is a good thing, Jesus, that’s fucking spectacular, and should make the dancer ecstatic.  And there is a part of the angel that is celebrating the death of Lucifer, throwing a God Damn ticker tape parade in honor of his passing.  However, wishing someone dead and actually glaring into the eyes of your victim as you blow their face off is entirely different.  Playing God is overwhelming.

Dean Winchester can help him find peace.  Put his shattered world back together, piece by piece.  He yearns for the safety he has when his hunter is nearby.  Life gradually returns to his cerulean orbs as Cas whispers through a broken voice, “I want to go home.”


	28. Earth Angel by Death Cab for Cutie

 

Dean’s mind snaps to attention, but his body remains loose like he is still sleeping.  ‘Danger!  Danger!’ sweeps through his thoughts because there is someone in the bedroom.  Last night is hazy.  He’s naked with that nice fucked feeling.  However, way in the far reaches of his psyche there is a nagging sensation to remember something important, beyond incredible sex.  God, why is his mouth full of cotton, and brain so sluggish and scattered?

The hunter keeps his eyes shut, but intently listens to his surroundings.  Panic is building in his chest until he hears the soft, kitten purrs next to him.  Dean allows himself a few moments to settle with each breath of his angel.  Cas is securely nestled in their bed.

Wait, did his fiancé do something that would anger him?  He doesn’t recall drinking alcohol, although his body sure feels hung over.  The hunter needs to focus and deal with the intruder since keeping Castiel safe is his primary job.

He sighs, stretching as if simply adjusting his position, yet his fingers glide under his pillow searching for the colt he keeps hidden.  When the pads of his digits feel nothing but soft fabric, his body freezes.  How the hell did the stranger get his gun?

“I know you’re awake, no need to hide it.”  A deep, scratchy male voice interrupts his thoughts.

“Fuck.”  Dean whispers to no one in particular as he rolls over facing the man.  The guest is sitting in one of the folding chairs from the dining room, his feet propped up at the end of the bed on Cas’s side.  The closeness to his angel makes the hunter’s skin crawl.  No reason to beat around the bush, “Are you here to kill me?”

“No.”  The guy chuckles using his hand to itch his hair, “I brought Castiel home.  He told me about your hidden weapon.”  The intruder nods towards Cas’s dresser, and the hunter’s spots his gun placed on top.  “Dean, I am not a threat, but a friend.  Anna sent me to help.”

Brought Cas home?  Dean sits up fast, glancing over at his dozing angel.  While Dean doesn’t have a stitch of clothing on, Castiel has everything, including his ratty, white converse.  A blip of rage washes over the hunter as his mind clears, allowing him to remember being drugged.  “Where was he?”

“He received a summons from Lucifer that he couldn’t decline.”  The stranger tosses a small piece of paper on to the bed.  It’s evident that an individual had attempted to destroy it as large strips of scotch tape holds the note together.

Dean desperately needs to hit someone, hard, after he reads the threat on his life.  His fingers fist tightly as his nails tear into the flesh of his palm.  “What happened?”

“Your boy here has balls of steel.  Walked right into the apartment and shot the fucker in his face.”

“Good.”  The hunter would have preferred to take the sadistic bastard’s life himself, but dead is still dead.  “Don’t ever call him boy again.”

“Alright, I get it, you both have a thing with his name.”  The man offers his hand and Dean takes it, “Speaking of which, I’m Cole.”

Dean is all business, “The bodies?” 

“Hannah has a special crew.”  The hunter nods, taking in the information as he gazes on his love.  Cas curls his body into the fetal position. 

Dean aches to caress his angel.  He moves to card his fingers through raven hair when Cole interrupts.  “I wouldn’t do that.  He was in quite a state when we got back.  I had to give him a sedative.”  The hunter ignores the other man as his hand brushes over soft, dark locks.  As Dean suspected, Cas leans into the touch.  The dozing beauty hums as his body relaxes, unfurling like a cat.

“Well damn, the meds must be really chilling him out because earlier, just a brush of my shoulder had him hyperventilating.”

The hunter shakes his head, keeping his eyes on Cas, “It’s not the pills, it’s me.”  Dean has never been more confident in a statement. 

“You guys must be a really tight couple.”  A kind adoration clear in his tone.

He’s tuning out Cole’s words as he watches the delicate hand of Castiel.  Gradually, at a snail’s pace, the dancer’s fingers creep towards his thigh, then grasp his leg, holding frantically.  A soft whine erupts from Cas, giving Dean a shiver.  The hunter places his hand over Castiel’s, smiling.  At his touch, the noise changes back to the glorious kitten sounds.  Dean understands what he and Cas are, and his voice cracks as he breathes it to the universe, “Soul mates.”

There will be time for anger.  If Cas could take it, Dean would turn him over his knee for pulling a stunt like this, but alas, his baby needs a tender hand.  For all his strength and beauty, the dancer will always be slightly broken.  That’s alright with the hunter because he can fill the cracks with love, making his angel whole.  He would merely be returning the favor Castiel did for him.

Cole is rambling on about Las Vegas.  Dean grasps the last sentence.  “When you move out to Vegas, I can help you with house hunting.”

“I’m sorry?  What now?  Cas and I aren’t moving.”

Cole snickers with disbelief, “That’s funny.  So don’t forget about the meeting with Crowley tomorrow.”

“What meeting?”  Jesus, he missed an entire conversation while staring at Cas.  Understandable though, cause his fiancé is one hell of a distraction.

Suddenly, fingers are snapping in his face.  Shit!  “Dean.  Meet Crowley at his offices tomorrow at 10am.  Bring Castiel, Sam, and his girl.”

“Why?” 

“It’s a good thing, don’t worry, but do not be late.”  Cole stands heading out of their bedroom.  “I’ll see ya later.”

“I’d walk you out, but I’m naked.”  Dean gestures to the sheet over his lower half.

“Ain’t nothing I haven’t seen.”

“Sorry.”  The hunter shrugs with a raise of his eyebrow, tilting his head to Cas.  “All this belongs to him.”

Cole exits, but quickly pops back in, “Oh, don’t forget about the hibernating bear on the dining room floor.”

Dean squints in confusion, “Damn, did he drug everyone on the way out?”

“Slippery little sucker isn’t he?”

“You have no idea.”  He listens for the door closing behind Cole before Dean snuggles into Castiel’s side.  His sweet angel welcomes the embrace, wrapping his arms around the hunter.  “Rest now, my love, because when you wake up, you are in so much shit.”

Cas mumbles in his sleep, “Nothing wrong with my ass.”

The hunter inclines his head to the right, mirroring an action he’s seen hundreds of times.  He peeks down, “Nope, still sexy as hell.”  That was a serious non sequitur. 

****

“Damn it, Cas!”  The glass he was holding now shatters on the wall.

He has to hand it to Castiel; the man didn’t even flinch.  The dancer just watched the cup soar across the room with mild amusement.  “Do you feel better?  Or should I get another glass to break?”

“Fuck.”  Dean seizes one of the glass roses he gave Cas before their trip.  The dancer cocks his eyebrow and the hunter puts it back in the vase carefully.  “Cas that was a very dangerous thing you did.  Do you not get how mad I am?”

Castiel crosses his arms, leaning against the entrance to the kitchen.  “I had no choice, Dean, and I would do it again.  You can’t lie to me.  If you were in the same position, you would have done the same thing.”

“But that’s different.”  Dean steps forward so he and Cas are standing toe to toe.

“Am I not your equal?  Do you think that I’m less capable than you?”  The dancer is fuming, his tone sharp as his volume heightens.

“No.”  The hunter’s eyes temper, the fury slipping away.  “You are MORE important Cas.”

The dancer shakes his head, smiling.  Damn that gorgeous, toothy grin that makes everything better.  “No Dean, we are both crucial.  I can’t live without you anymore than you could without me.”  Cas leans forward, kissing Dean’s nose, “It’s called being in love.”

“If we are equals, then next time we talk it over.  No drugging me senseless and taking off to die.  Communication is the key to any relationship.”

“Okay Dr. Phil.”  A giggle escapes from his angel’s lips.  “The next time a lunatic wants to kill us, we will discuss it first.”

Dean sticks up his pointer finger, “You laugh, but have you met the people in our lives.  We could make Dr. Shurley a millionaire with all the crazy.”

“Ah, and on that note, I need to head out to make my 6pm appointment with said headshrinker.”  Castiel snatches his Henley, tugging Dean in close for a passionate kiss.  It’s all tongue and teeth, with a nice side order of groping.  The need for oxygen becomes a distant memory until a knock at the door halts the lip smacking.  Cas steps back, panting, “That would be Meg.  You still going to pick me up at 7:00 for our mystery outing?”

“Yup.”  The hunter winks, “Me and baby will be parked outside of the doc’s building.”

The dancer yanks open the door, giving Meg a nod then throws over his shoulder, “Should I be concerned that I share the same pet name as your car?”

“It’s a compliment, Cas.”  He yells back as the door shuts behind them.  Now to make sure everything is set for tonight.  He pivots back noticing the glass on the floor.  Okay, after he cleans up the mess.

****

Dean picks up Cas and they head out of the city just after seven.  The sun is on its decent, and the drive is relaxing, even with the running commentary of his passenger.  When the Impala crosses over into Jersey, his fiancé’s head turns suspiciously, “Dean, where are we going?”

“You said that you still wanted the big romantic gesture.”  Castiel’s baby blues glimmer with anticipation.  “I had to change it up a little since the big proposal is over.”

“Use more words Winchester.  Change what up?”  The playful smirk of his dancer makes Dean’s heart swell three fold.

The hunter shrugs his left shoulder in a non-committal way, “it’s a surprise.”

“I think I’m good on surprises for like, the next decade. Spill.”

He will always be Cas’s to command.  “We are headed to Harvelle’s Diner for an engagement party.”

“What?!”  Castiel nearly leaps out of his seat.  “I’m not dressed for a party.”

“You’re fine Cas.  It’s at a diner, which will be serving burgers and milkshakes.  Jeans and my favorite blue t-shirt are perfect.  This is a party for us.  Nobody else matters.”

Cas seems to still at his words, huffing only slightly now.  “Who’s going to be there?”

“Dude, everybody.  Sam, Meg, Benny, Gadreel, Gabriel, Charlie, Casey, Ruby, Bobby, Crowley, Hannah, Cain, Colette, and a few surprises, for which I have been sworn to secrecy by your brothers.”

“Wait, don’t you have more family to invite?”

“Well of course Jo and Ellen will be there too, serving and shit.  But other than that, you, Sam, Bobby, and Charlie are the only family I’ve got.  Well, Gadreel is also family so he counts for both of us.”

Dean’s smile falters as he watches Cas curl up on the bench seat next to him.  The dancer encloses his arms around his shins with a faint shiver.  Shit!  Maybe he should have canceled the whole damn thing.  The hunter was hoping the celebration could be a healthy distraction, but maybe he was wrong.  The interior of the car delves into a painful silence.

He is about to pull the Impala over to hug his fiancé when Cas finally utters in a hush tone, “Is it wrong to be happy after taking a life?”

The hunter’s fingers grip into the steering wheel.  That asshole was still taking Castiel’s happiness away, even from the grave.  He wanted them to ride off into the sunset, have their party, and never think about Lucifer and his shit again.  It dawns on Dean that this isn’t something that can be swept away with the trash.  The two of them will be working through this for years to come, yet they will do it together.  “I think Nick was pure evil, and the world is a better place with him dead.”

Fuck, this is too important for him to be driving.  Dean takes the next exit, parking the car next to a grassy knoll.  Cas’s head shoots up, curious as to why the car stopped, “Are we here?”

“No, but this needs to be done with all my focus on you.”  The hunter heaves his lover into his lap, embracing the man.  Castiel snuggles his forehead into Dean’s shoulder.  They just hold each other for several minutes before he continues.  “I have no idea what you are feeling.  I’ve killed a lot of living things, but never a human.  You tell me what you need from me, big or small.  You want to turn around and go home, we can do that.  You want to have the bash and never speak of Nick again we can do that.  I’m permanent Cas, for the good the bad and the ugly.  Love isn’t about happily ever after, when you really love someone it’s about the entire package, problems and all.”

Cas lifts his head so Dean can glimpse sapphire gems.  A sweet smile spreads across those gorgeous pink lips.  “We can do anything I want?”  The tone is a bit saucy, as a warm arousal builds low in the hunter’s stomach.

“You are the boss Cas.”  He kisses his angel chastely.

Those baby blues sparkle as Castiel decrees, “I want to be late to the party; very late.”

Dean digs out his phone, sending Sam a text.  He’s pretty sure that group will have plenty of fun on his dime and an open bar.  “Ok, that’s covered what next?”

He’s fairly certain about nudity in his future, but Cas has to dictate his evening.  Dean plunges his lips down to Castiel’s collarbone, peppering the skin with kisses.  “I want you inside of me.”

The hunter practically breaks his neck his head jerks up so fast, “What now?”

His angel doesn’t say a word; he just pulls off his shirt and climbs to the back seat.  The hunter’s eyes are tracking the movement as Cas discards every piece of clothing, tossing each item to the front seat.  Castiel’s boxers actually land on Dean’s head.  He scans around them, realizing it’s starting to get dark and the entire area is empty of life. 

With a wink, his angel’s sultry, deep voice requests, “Glove box, Dean.”

How in the world did a serious discussion about death turn into a porno?  Dean retrieves a small bottle of lube from the Impala’s glove box.  He’s turning the liquid in his hand, still curious about the change of events.  “What is going on here?”

“Well, currently I’m naked and alone in the backseat.  Can we rectify this situation?”

“No, seriously Cas, pause for a second and be honest with me.”  It is taking every ounce of strength not to jump over the seat and ravish his gorgeous dancer.

Cas sits up, huffing with annoyance, “Dean.  Don’t you think there was a very specific reason that Nick claimed to destroy my ass?”

Dean shakes his head mildly confused.

“So that my hole would forever remain his.  I want him gone.  That means you need to boldly go where only Lucifer has been.”

“Are you sure everything is kosher with the …entrance?”  He wants this so bad his hands are vibrating, but he will never harm his angel.

“I’m fine, well, maybe be a little gentle, but other than that, let’s get on with it.”

Well holy hell that’s all the hunter needs to hear.  He strips so hastily he may have torn his Henley.  Before taking the final leap to join his lover, Dean turns on the radio, “Help set the mood.”

A new cover of _Earth Angel_ plays through the air.  He scrambles over the seat, lowering his body onto the sexiest man alive.  Dean doesn’t want to rush.  He will make this amazing for Cas.  The hunter kisses his angel, their lips parting in a tender kiss, their tongues gliding together like they were created just for this task.  When the second verse of the song starts, Dean can’t help but sing along.

_Earth Angel, Earth Angel_

_The one I adore, Love you forever and evermore_

_I’m just a fool, A fool in love with you_

He carries on with the serenade as Dean opens the bottle, slicking his fingers.  Castiel purrs as Dean pushes his first finger in, tenderly.  The hunter takes a mental picture of this moment.  His fiancé’s slaphappy grin touching his blue orbs as Cas’s breath quickens in eagerness.

_I fell for you and I knew_

_The vision of your loveliness_

_I hope and I pray, that someday_

_That I’ll be the vision of your happiness_

Dean adds a second finger, observing Castiel’s reaction carefully.  He is rewarded with a lustful, “Yes”, from the man.  The hunter’s lips return to sweet kisses up and down his lover’s neck and torso.  Using his free hand, roaming from Cas’s raven hair to strokes down his face and arm.  Anything to hold the physical connection with his angel while adding a third finger.  He reminds himself to stretch his fingers, scissoring Cas.  When he strikes against a certain bundle of nerves, the man below him lurches up screaming, “DEAN!”

“I’ve got you Cas, I’ve got you.”  He’s lost track of the music, his only focus is everything Castiel.  Dean has to do this right.  He must erase the last remnants of Nick from his angel’s body.

Cas’s exquisite, gravelly voice begs, “I’m prepped now Dean, take me, I’m yours.”

“Jesus.”  Those words go straight to his crotch.  Dean drowns his cock in lube before shifting between Castiel’s soft, silky thighs.  He inhales deeply, finding his center before inching inside his lover’s hole.  The hunter penetrates at a painstakingly slow pace.  His fingernails are mutilating his Baby’s leather as he grips tight, trying to remain in control.

Dean yelps loudly as Cas wraps his legs around the hunter’s waist and shoves him hard, forcing him to bottom out.  “HOLY MOTHER OF GOD!”  He screams in response to the intense sensation of heat and tightness around his dick.

“Fuck me, Dean!  I won’t break!”

“I might.”  Dean squeaks as he timidly starts to thrust in and out of his angel.  Oh, my sweet baby Jesus, this is the most amazing feeling.  There is only one experience that can top this; when Castiel is fucking him senseless.  The hunter lowers his body so flesh can rub against flesh with each plunge of his cock.

His lips land on Cas’s, all the passion and need spoken with tongues, teeth, skin, and penetrating members.  Dean is dizzy with desire, his mind a complete blank except for Castiel.  It will always be about his angel.  The hunter nudges to the left and boom, finds just the right spot deep inside his lover.

“There, Dean!  Right there… don’t stop… I’m so… close!”  Castiel wails between swipes of their tongues.

The hunter is fucking Cas so hard his balls are slapping against the angel’s ass and it’s incredible.  His brain halts, his breath catches, and he shrieks as a massive orgasm tears through his body, making every muscle tense in delicious agony.  However, he doesn’t miss the blessed event of Castiel’s quiet whimper, sending him over into his own climax.

Dean collapses onto his lover.  He doesn’t have the strength to speak, much less clean them up.  The soft music and their wheezing is the only noise in the Impala. 

Eventually, Dean hoists his head from Castiel’s chest, assaulting his entire face with kisses.  The love of his life bursts out in giggles, squeezing his legs tighter, bringing the hunter even closer.  He pulls away slightly to get a better look at those striking baby blue gems.  “I love you, Cas.”

“I love you, Dean.”

The two men simply stare into each other’s gazes, passing the air between them with each breath.  Dean grins because Cas looks beautifully wrecked with his cheeks glowing and his hair beyond messy.  “Ready for a party babe?”

“Not yet, I don’t want to share.”

Caressing his finger down Castiel’s cheek, Dean whispers, “No sharing Cas, I’m yours forever.”

“Yours always.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright my lovely and stunning readers we are nearing the end. :( But for those who follow me to the next one I am currently plotting a Destiel Romantic Comedy, supposedly I'm fucking hilarious (my editors words not mine). All the laughs and fluff with no death, it will be my greatest challenge yet.
> 
> But just a reminder I love you all!


	29. Shake It Out by Florence and The Machine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, FYI this is the official last chapter. However, I will post an epilogue on Sunday. To me epilogues should come after THE END but in the past this has confused some readers sooo heads up there is one more chapter for Sunday.

* * *

 

The needle digs the ink into Dean’s skin, painting his back.  He grunts trying to block out the sensation of acid tipped knives driving into his skin.  The hunter tightens his hold on Castiel’s hands, sucking in air hastily.  “Son of a Bitch.  How the hell did I let you talk me into this Cas?”

“Dean.”  His gorgeous angel tilts forward, kissing his cheek.  “It’s a perfect time to finish the wings, no one here is broken.  Not anymore.”

Dean spots Gadreel’s gaze as he pauses to glance at Cas.  His friend is still surprised by the way the dancer touches him.  It’s not that Gadreel is upset by it, but the act startles him, especially that Castiel is continuing to take baby steps.  Well not with Dean; the hunter gets all the juicy caresses.  However, his angel has taken to hugging family.  The first time he hugged Gabriel, the dorky little guy cried.

The tattoo artist goes back to work, causing Dean pain and suffering as he asks, “So Vegas?”

Castiel answers as Dean faintly whines, “It would seem by the end of October, Dean will find employment in Las Vegas, thanks to Crowley.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me that my new boss will be Fergus MacLeod.”  The hunter, even now, can’t believe it.  Yesterday he, Cas, Sam, and Meg met at Crowley’s office with no idea what it was about.  Come to discover that the MacLeod’s were trying to go more legit.  They want to create a business that their children could inherit one day, hence why they pooled their resources and bought the Bellagio Casino in Las Vegas.  Originally Dick Roman was going to hold a 25% share and run the day to day management of the casino.  Due to his recent ejection from Hannah’s graces, he was kicked to the curb leaving several openings that he had filled with his own people.  Fergus, with Hannah’s encouragement, decided to replace Dick with Sam and offered the head of security position to Dean.

“Shh, Dean, it’s an excellent opportunity.”  Cas strokes his head, turning his focus back to the dancer’s brother.  “He and Sam will spend the next few months getting up to speed with Casino laws and such, which they can do online here in New York.  Then by October 1st, we will officially move to Las Vegas.”

Gadreel clears his throat, “Well, you guys will be missed.”

“I’m sorry Gadreel, but it’s a wonderful opportunity for all of us.  Hannah has agreed to fund a small ballet studio where Meg and I can teach.”  His angel gently pats the artist’s shoulder.  Dean really wishes he wouldn’t disturb the guy marking him permanently.  Oh joy, the constant attack of bee stings has begun.  The hunter endeavors to drown out the assault, listening to the brother’s talk.

“But Castiel, I thought you wanted to be in a Ballet Company again?”

Without glimpsing at Dean, the angel notices the new discomfort as he scratches Dean’s scalp in a calming manner.  “I did, but things are different now.  Being in a company means travel and bizarre hours.  I want a job with a set schedule so I can help Meg when the baby comes.  Maybe even look into alternatives for Dean and me.”

The hunter went perfectly still, ignoring the conversation.  Did Cas just say he wants children?  He knows that adoption would be tricky with Castiel’s background, but not entirely out of the realm of possibilities.  There was also surrogacy.  The two men had a plethora of women who might be willing, not to mention just doing the whole ‘rent a womb’ option.  Dean grins, the warmth in his heart pushing away any distress from the tattooing. 

“Dean did you fall asleep?”  Cas is leaning into his face with concern.

“No, just attempting to block out the searing cat scratches.”  He gives a quick grimace for good measure.  Clearly he said something right because Castiel just nods.

“I was telling Gadreel that I should get another tattoo before we leave New York.  What do you think?”

“You could get NYC on your ass.”  Dean snickers at the thought of fucking New York every night.

“Shut up.”  Cas bats his head tenderly, “Maybe your name?”

His head pops up, almost shaking his shoulder where Gadreel is working.  Tattooing Dean’s name onto Castiel’s body would be like the hunter claiming him.  It just seems a little to possessive for Dean’s liking.  “Not my name, Cas, but maybe something that symbolizes us as a couple.  We are here for a few more months, I could get one too.”

“Pretty sure you guys have a massive piece of art that matches already.”  Gadreel chuckles, “I should video the way you guys stare at each other.  Be advised, the world knew you were together even before you started touching.”

“Whatever you want babe,” Dean lowers his head to the table.  Honestly, the hunter has no problem letting Cas decide.  That is something that he has enjoyed with his relationship with the angel.  They are a team, and stepping back so Cas can take the wheel from time to time is nice.

Castiel has a deep-in-thought look as he replies, “I’ll give some time to percolate.  Rash decisions on tattoos are never wise.”  The room is silent for a bit, the only noise is the hum of the inking drill.  At some point, the angel’s gravel-toned voice announces, “Are you coming to Meg and I’s final performance at the Devil’s Trap?  It’s next Wednesday at 9pm.”

“Yes Castiel, I got the e-vite.”

Since both Meg and Cas were essentially retiring from performance dance, they decided a farewell show would be in order.  Dean thought it was a great idea, unfortunately, Sam is not happy.  Meg’s tummy is just starting to show a slight bump below her belly button.  The more her stomach swells, Sam’s protective side builds with it.  However, the show is set and the Winchester brother’s have a booth reserved, along with Hannah and Crowley.  It’s a little weird, but then again what part of this new family is normal?

Dean senses Gadreel wiping down his skin with ointment, and prepping his back with gauze and plastic wrap.  The hunter sits up to facilitate the process.  “Okay, you know the drill.  Keep it clean and wrapped for 24 hours.”  The artist sticks his pointer finger in Dean’s face, “Don’t pick at the scabs or scratch against poles.  Got it?”

“Yes.  I’m not an idiot man.”  Castiel assists in helping the hunter dress.  The scraping against the new art is not horrible, but also not fun.  “Time to go home Cas.”

His adorable angel winks at him before planting a sweet kiss to his lips, “Of course, my love.  We will see you soon, Gadreel.”

****

The hunter inclines back into the leather booth of the dark pleasures club.  He and Sam had arrived at 8:00pm to have some dinner before Dante and Beatrice’s final performance.  Dean scans the theater, taking in the surroundings.  The Devil’s Trap will always hold a special place in his heart.  This hoity toity strip club kept his angel alive during the hardest part of his life.  Then the stage literally delivered Cas to Dean.  He finds himself grinning at the memories.  It’s a story that will one day be altered for younger ears, but to Dean it’s an amazing tale of true love.

The sound of his favorite gravel voice brings his attention to the stage as the lights go black.  “Please join us for Dante and Beatrice’s final performance.  This dance is dedicated to those who helped us find the light.”

The music begins as a sparkling illumination gives the space a dark, star-filled-sky effect.

_Regrets collect like old friends_

_Here to relive your darkest moments_

Meg and Cas stand on opposite sides, facing away from the audience.  Their arms move in unison, swaying to the beat.  Both dancers have black, translucent robes covering their entire bodies as the twinkling lights dance on the fabric.

While the song grows, they move towards each other slowly, then when the meet, they take each other into a tight embrace.  They break the hold in a ballroom stance waltzing around the floor.

_All of his question, such a mournful sound_

_Tonight I’m gonna bury that horse in the ground_

_So I like to keep my issues drawn_

_But it’s always darkest before the dawn_

On the last word, the lights jump to super bright as the dancers separate, removing their robes, tossing them to the ground.  Meg and Cas are completely nude as they pirouette several feet away from each other.  Then Meg dashes to her partner so Castiel can lift her.  Her little stature flying into the air with his arms keeping her safely grounded.

Dean snickers at Sam’s gasp.  Obviously the younger Winchester had not been informed that there would be lifts and throws in the routine.  Cas had convinced Dean that it was no big deal so he pats his brother’s arm.  “She is fine.”

“Are you sure?” 

His little brother’s hazel eyes look so young, shining with worry.  “They’ve had each other’s back since before Cas could speak.”

Sam simply nods, turning his focus back to the pair.

_Shake it out, Shake it out, Shake it out, Shake it out_

_Ooh Whoa_

Watching the two friends move across the stage, completely in tune with each other, he can see the love.  Meg is glowing, but it’s more than the pregnancy.  She is in heaven feeling Castiel’s touch through their movements.  Hands caressing, arms embracing, and the safety of his lifts.  It’s gorgeous.

_And it’s hard to dance with the devil on your back_

_So shake him off, Oh Whoa_

Castiel throws Meg into the air, and as she spins, her dark, free-flowing locks cast over her beautifully. 

“Jesus!”  Sam yelps and the moment is perfect to Dean.  In the end, this isn’t goodbye to New York or Cas’s dancing career.  This is the dawning of a new life, which the hunter has been searching for since he first dreamed of blue eyes.

****

The performance ends and Dean is attempting to stand with an erection.  All the open skin of his angel gave him a raging boner, which he is praying no one notices before they leave.  Casey strolls up to him handing over a white card.  She gives him a freakish wink with black orbs, “I think you know what to do with this?”

“Thanks.”  He places a chaste kiss on her cheek as the hunter limps off.  He can detect laughter behind him, but he has a mission that hopefully will alleviate his current condition.

Dean was expecting the room to be empty, but the door opens to reveal a naked angel on top of a circular bed with white silk bedding.  The entire room is painted in a bright white, even the carpet.  Castiel lifts his hand beckoning, him over.  The hunter shuts the door behind him, observing the hard, leaking dick oh his lover.  Oh, thank you to all that is holy, Cas isn’t going to last long either.  He strips as fast as humanly possible.

He crawls to the middle of the bed, joining Cas and smashing his lips into the dancer’s.  In between passes of their tongue and puffs of air, Castiel exclaims, “Welcome to heaven, Dean.”

A deep feral growl is the hunters only reply.

Their bodies mesh against each other as the angel tugs them down to the mattress below with a thud.  Dean doesn’t have the willpower for fucking, so he slots his cock against Castiel’s, grinding them together.  The intoxicating sensation of every thrust of their hips adds to Dean’s building orgasm.  The two lover’s release their tongues, as if they have a mind of their own.

The hunter opens his eyes, gazing into sparkling blue orbs.  “Stay with me Cas.”  The intense glare never breaks as Cas whimpers, shooting his load between their abdomens and Dean following right behind.

Heavy breathing is the only sound as green gems keep focus on sapphire beauties.  “I love you, Dean.”

“I love you, Cas.”

Once they have recovered, Castiel lifts his left arm, revealing a word scrawled across his inner wrist.

_FREE_

Dean rubs the skin, fairly certain this isn’t a tattoo.  “What is this Cas?”

“Gadreel drew it with a sharpie so I could show you my idea.”

“I don’t get it.  We are getting married soon; I’m not planning on setting you free, like ever.”

Cas tips Dean’s face up using his free fingers to meet his breathtaking eyes.  “Love should never be about possession or some kind of shackles on your heart.  Dean, through your love, I am free.”

A warm, bright smile matching his heart spreads across the hunter’s lips.  He understands exactly what Castiel is saying.  Alone, he lived in the darkness, lost in a veil of shame and regret.  But through the love he has with this amazing dancer, Dean has broken his chains and has been set free.

 

THE END


	30. Epilogue

What a Wonderful World (featuring Shadow Royale) by Joseph William Morgan

Epilogue

**Six Years Later**

Dean raps his knuckles on the handcrafted, dark cherry wood bar.  Scanning the room the hunter grins, surprised at the amazing turn out for Gabriel’s grand opening.  The dorky pastry chef talked Crowley into backing his idea for a dessert bar in the heart of Manhattan.  It had taken years of work, but the results were miraculous.  The hunter and his angel were ecstatic to have a reason to come to New York for a week to help support the new business owner.

_Dark Heaven,_ as the place is called, has a full bar with a specialty drinks lists full of the sweetest cocktails in the city, along with wonderful sugary treats.  Dean’s fairly certain he will have diabetes by the end of the party.  The joint is all cherry wood with dim lighting, but the walls have gorgeous murals, painted by Gadreel, depicting a bright, golden Heaven.  It is an odd décor clash that really works in the end.

He spots Cas helping out behind the bar and gives his husband a nod.  The wink he gets in return warms his heart.  Dean checks his phone for the hundredth time that night.  Sure Krissy is in college now, and completely capable of babysitting his kids, but that doesn’t make it any easier.  Gabriel’s apartment may only be three blocks away, but it is not properly childproofed.

The hunter starts when someone taps his shoulder.  He swivels to his right, catching the face of one Lisa Braedon staring back at him.  “Dean?”

“Lisa, how are you?”  They attempt an awkward hug before settling onto their stools.

“I’m good.  Ben is doing great; starts at Columbia University in the fall.”

“Wow, that’s such a great school.  Tell him I say congrats.”  Dean doesn’t miss her eyes zeroing in on his wedding ring.  A silver platinum band with the words, _Cas’s Love_ scrolled across the top.  He decides to roll with it holding his left hand up to bounce his finger.  “Just over five years.”

“Any kids yet?”  Her voice seems almost joking, as if Dean would never, but oh how wrong she is.

“Two, actually, I have a three year old daughter named Claire, and my son Jude turned one last month.”  She was sipping on her chocolate martini when he answered, so of course now the poor thing is choking.  “Surprised?”

After Lisa is breathing again she replies, “A little.”  She takes a closer glance at his ring, “Is Cas short for Cassandra?”

“Uh no, Castiel.”  It’s funny because Castiel is such an odd name, people don’t often catch on that Dean’s coming out to them.  Just then his phone whistles, identifying a new text.  The hunter opens it hastily finding two photos, sent from Krissy, of his babies sound asleep.  He turns the phone to Lisa, “From my niece.  She’s our babysitter when we are in town.”

“Dean, they are so beautiful.”  Her tone is hushed almost reverent.  “Did your wife use yoga to help with the births?”

The hunter vaguely remembers Lisa teaching a yoga birthing class, but of course, there are so many things wrong with that question he doesn’t know where to start.   “No.  We used a very special surrogate from Kansas City.”

The look of pity in Lisa’s eyes makes Dean want to throw something.  Then the woman has the audacity to pat his hand like a child, “Fertility troubles?”

“Excuse me.”  Dean lifts his gaze to find sparkling sapphires staring back at him.  His husband looks hot with his chaotic sex hair and tight white t-shirt with _Dark Heaven Angel_ across his chest.  Cas extricates Dean’s hand from Lisa’s, turning it so their _FREE_ tattoos are obvious.  The woman he spent years fucking raises an eyebrow as she notices the matching art.

“Hey Cas, this is Lisa.”  The hunter can’t help but smirk.  Castiel is fully aware of who she is in Dean’s history, and his ex is now piecing it together why they needed a surrogate.  “Lisa, this is my husband, Cas.”

His angel’s face is taught, and Cas’s response has a chill to it.  “Nice to meet you.”

Lisa is fighting to appear nonchalant, but Dean knows she’s freaking out.  “Likewise.   Do you work here?”

“No, my brother owns the place.  He was not expecting this kind of turn out and needed help.”  Cas glances over his shoulder at the disheveled chef.  “Dean and I live in Las Vegas, where I own a dance studio.”

“You’re a dancer?  Did you study anywhere I would know?” 

His grin blossoms into a full smile as Cas retaliates, “I was a principle dancer with the American Ballet Company.  Have you heard of them?”

BOOYAH!  Dean screams in his head because his baby is all fucking kinds of talented.  Lisa nods quietly.  A customer is waving at Cas, so his angel has to pretend to give a damn and ambles down the bar.  “So someone finally broke apart the codependent Winchester brothers?”

Dean bristles at the implications to her comment.  “Actually, Sam has the office next to mine at the Bellagio Casino, where we work, and his house sits next to mine.  That way our kids don’t have to cross the street.”

“Oh, but I don’t see him here?”  Her eyes search around the area. 

“No, his wife Meg is two weeks from her due date, so she can’t fly.  She is also Cas’s business partner so they can keep the studio open if she stayed behind.”

Lisa’s eyes go wide, “Wow, is this their first?”

“No, third.  They have a five year old daughter named El, and a two and a half year old son, Henry.”

“El, that’s an interesting name.”  She takes the last swig of her drink.  Thank God because Dean is so bored with this woman.

“It’s short for Castiel.  Having two of them makes it difficult, so Cas gets the first half and El gets the end.”  She just glares at him.  Probably waiting for him to ask about her life, but honestly he doesn’t give a damn.  “Well, it was nice chatting with you.”

Dean wonders to the back office because he’s used up all of his social graces for the evening.

****

A little after one in the morning, Castiel wakes Dean.  The hunter had dozed off in Gabriel’s big leather chair.  “Hey Cas, how did it go?”

“Successfully, and it’s still going strong but I’m too old for this shit, so let’s head out.”

As he strolls a step behind Castiel, weaving their way through the crowd, Dean’s gaze drops to his angel’s delicious hips.  The skinny jeans are borderline indecent, and they make the hunter’s mouth water.  As they reach the street and turn towards Gabriel’s apartment, Dean asks with a naughty curiosity, “When is Gabe coming home?”

“It would seem he is having a fling with one of the waitresses.  He will not be back tonight.”  Cas takes his hand, squeezing it gently as they walk.  “Why?”

“I bet Krissy will be out cold on the floor in the kids’ room.  So maybe Gabriel’s couch needs to be properly sullied.”  He bounces his eyebrows seductively.

“I believe that can be arranged, Mr. Winchester.”  Cas stops, wrapping his arms around Dean, kissing him passionately. 

This is Dean’s happily ever after, forever with his angel.  He tightens the embrace, deepening the kiss, only allowing their lips to part when his brain is screaming for oxygen.  “Race you home, Mr. Winchester.  First one there bottoms.”  With that, the hunter cackles loudly, sprinting off in the direction of sleeping children, and hopefully a soon-to-be naked Castiel.  

 Life is perfect.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well here we are at the end of another journey. Thank you to all my readers. This story exists to be enjoyed and I am pleased that it is.
> 
> My next adventure should start posting within the month so stay tuned for my attempt at Romantic Comedy (Destiel).
> 
> Laugh a lot, hug always, and kiss the best,
> 
> Angie


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